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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25829473">Necrodeviant</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsThatGuy/pseuds/ItsThatGuy'>ItsThatGuy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Alternate Universe - Conspiracy/Horror, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Gen, Imprisonment, call this locked tomb with a dollop of stranger things and a pinch of twin peaks, pretty much all the shit that comes with being a lab rat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:01:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>34,759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25829473</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsThatGuy/pseuds/ItsThatGuy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gideon Nav is just an ordinary person, living an ordinary life, in an ordinary town.  What *isn't* ordinary is the night that she discovers a mysterious young woman digging through her garbage.  What *really* isn't ordinary is that young woman having the power to reanimate dead bone.</p><p>And the web of conspiracy and danger that the young woman draws her into?  Well, that's just *hella* not ordinary.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gideon Nav &amp; Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>256</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Afterward--long afterward--Gideon would marvel at how the whole thing had begun on the most ordinary day imaginable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Long day?” Camilla asked in her usual laconic manner, watching from the other side of the counter as Gideon stretched herself upward, catlike, grunting appreciatively as a few sharp </span>
  <em>
    <span>pops</span>
  </em>
  <span> emitted from her back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re all long days,” Gideon replied, moving on to rolling out her neck, head lolling slowly from side to side.  She breathed into the sensation as the muscles reluctantly released their deathgrip on each other, then eased her head back upright.  “You mind ordering something?  Aiglamene’s going to get on my ass if I let you just sit there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Camilla raised an eyebrow.  “Palamedes ordered a coffee.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, two hours ago.”  Together, they looked at the man in question, who was hunched over a messy stack of papers in a nearby booth like a studious scarecrow.  The coffee Camilla had mentioned--twelve ounce drip, black, the most perfunctory order possible--sat at his elbow, long since forgotten and cooled to room temperature.  Gideon would’ve bet her favorite pair of shades that he hadn’t even drunk half of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Camilla conceded, turning back to Gideon.  “You have any of that pie left?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon flashed her a grin.  “Coming right up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was, as it turned out, just a bit of the pie left.  Magnus had been in earlier that afternoon with his two dreadful teens, and predictably the old pushover had let them tear through the bulk of it.  Gideon had opined, as they were on their way out, that Abigail was going to be annoyed with him when they got upset stomachs in a couple of hours’ time, and he’d just laughed in that way of his that meant </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re probably right, and I’ve accepted it.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  The remaining pie was not enough for two slices, but distinctly more than one--about a slice and a half, give or take.  Gideon eyed it for a moment, then unceremoniously flipped the whole thing onto a plate.  Figuring out how to cut it was too much trouble this late in her shift, and besides, she liked Camilla.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Camilla raised an eyebrow again as the oversized slice of pie was set before her.  “That’s a lot of pie,” she observed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yup,” Gideon agreed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t know if I can finish that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So take it home with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not charging me extra?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon leaned onto the counter with one hand, doing her best to assemble her face into an expression that said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I am doing this because you are my best friend, and also I am an awesome sexy person who would never gouge anybody,</span>
  </em>
  <span> which was maybe a bit much to be asking of an expression, but apparently she’d done well enough because Camilla held her gaze only a moment longer before picking up a fork and neatly sectioning off the tip of the slice with it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s Sex Pal working on that’s got him so wrapped up, anyway?” Gideon asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Camilla didn’t bat an eyelid at Gideon’s usual nickname for Palamedes, unhurriedly chewing and swallowing a bite of pie before answering.  “Dunno,” she said.  “One of his projects.  He’s got something like six of them going at the moment.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But what kind of projects?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever catches his interest.”  Camilla shrugged.  “You know him.  Occult stuff.  Biology stuff.  Occult biology stuff.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh,” said Gideon, who had to admit that </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> sound exactly like him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He says there’s actually some labs in the area doing related research,” Camilla added.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was distractedly shuffling the substantial remainder of her pie around on the plate with her fork; Gideon preemptively ducked behind the counter to grab a to-go box.  “I hadn’t heard anything about that,” she said as she reemerged, handing the box off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s not the sort of thing you tend to advertise,” Camilla said.  “Apparently they’re pretty buttoned up about it.  He reached out to them a while back and got completely stonewalled.  He wasn’t even trying to pry, just wanted to compare notes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, creepy spook bullshit.  Classic.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Gideon.”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Gideon turned at the sound of her name; Aiglamene was standing in the doorway to the kitchen.  “Closing time.  Quit jawing, clear them out, and clean up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you heard the lady,” Gideon said as Aiglamene hobbled her way back into the kitchen.  Camilla had already withdrawn a crisp, neatly folded bill to hand to her.  Gideon accepted it, tucking it into her apron pocket, then with a practiced flick of her wrist sent her cleaning rag flying across the room; it caught Palamedes full in the side of the head with a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>thwap.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  “Hey, Sex Pal!  Closing time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?  Oh, right.  Thanks, Gideon.”  Having thus thanked her for the rag in the face, he suddenly recalled the existence of the coffee at his elbow, raised it to his lips, and upended it, chugging the lukewarm remains down in a single smooth motion.  Watching him, Gideon stuck out her tongue and made a soft gagging noise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Gideon.”  Camilla was wished goodnight in turn and waited for a moment with the appearance of perfect patience for Palamedes to collect his papers into an unwieldy pile, and then the pair of them were out the door, leaving Gideon alone in the diner’s empty front.  Everything after that was straightforward--the kitchen was Aiglamene’s domain, so all there was left for Gideon to do was wipe down, sweep up, and sort out the cash register, and soon enough she was headed for the door herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Night, Aiglamene!” she called over her shoulder.  There was a vague noise from the kitchen that might have been a reply, or merely a grunt.  Undeterred, Gideon shouldered open the door and emerged into the crisp evening air.  The sun had sunk out of sight, leaving only a ring of feeble light ringing the horizon, silhouetting the endless sea of trees that extended in every direction, interrupted only by those small patches that had been cleared for human habitation.  There was barely enough light to see by, aided intermittently by sputtering streetlights.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A shape by the footpath stirred as Gideon tromped towards where her bike was parked.  One could just make out the shape of what had to be technically called a dog, albeit one that had been put together by an exceptionally unskilled taxidermist and then left to moulder in an attic for a few decades.  “If you could contrive to drop dead before I get in tomorrow morning,” Gideon said as she passed it by, “I’d consider it a personal favor.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aiglamene’s dog Crux lifted his head just enough to fix her with his beady eyes and let out a low, throaty growl.  Gideon offhandedly flipped him the bird in response.  He’d been a crotchety asshole of a hound for as long as she’d known him--which was an increasingly improbable amount of time, now--and yet he stubbornly continued to cling to life, apparently just to spite her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Undaunted, Gideon continued on her way until she reached her bike, mounted it, took a moment to retrieve her shades from her jacket pocket and pop them onto her face, and then kicked the bike into gear and pulled out of the parking lot onto the familiar road home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Doublesummit was the kind of place that came immediately to mind when you heard the words ‘sleepy little town’.  It was just close enough to the highway not to roll over and die completely, but far enough that nobody paid it much mind.  It was the kind of town where all the residents knew each other by sight at minimum.  Nestled in the nooks and channels that had been carved through the teeming growth of the forests that covered the area, it had been Gideon Nav’s home for as long as she could remember.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her bike’s engine purred as it carried her the last few yards up to her house.  It was a modest one-story affair, not much to look at, but by the time Gideon had come of age she and Aiglamene had been in total (and somewhat desperate) agreement that she needed a place of her own, so… it was hers.  It wasn’t too far off the beaten path, but that was by Doublesummit standards, so it wasn’t as if there was anybody in shouting distance, either.  That suited Gideon fine; she could crank her stereo as loud as she wanted whenever she wanted and not have to deal with anybody complaining about it.  It was the definition of a perfect arrangement, in her book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Parking her bike, Gideon tromped across the untamed yard and up the wooden steps to her front door, shucking her jacket and boots with practiced ease once she had stepped inside.  For a moment she stood, listening to her body complain of its weariness from the day, and then she pushed herself back into motion.  A large section of the front room’s bare wooden floor had been left clear, marked only by the presence of a few untidily stacked weights along the walls.  Gideon went to work in the middle of her makeshift exercise floor, first going through a series of stretches to work out the kinks and aches of the day, then into a basic routine--crunches, press-ups, and simple cardio.  Working out regularly, morning and evening, had been her routine for years, going back as far as when she’d been living with Aiglamene.  Moderate weariness had never been an excuse to break that before, and it wasn’t going to be tonight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finished, she padded over to the kitchen--which was honestly the same room as the front room and dining room, with a line of cabinets making a halfhearted attempt at separating it off--and yanked open the door to the fridge, retrieving a tupperware container which held the last remnants of something she’d thrown in a pot and boiled a few days ago.  With that in one hand, and a fork from what passed for her utensil drawer in the other, she returned to the front room, settling into a sprawl on a modest couch in front of a modest television set, both of which had been tucked away into the corner not set aside as exercise space.  Picking up the remote from where it was laying on the floor next to the couch, she flipped the TV on as she scooped a bite of cold food into her mouth with her other hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was an ordinary evening for Gideon--coming home from work, scraping together the lowest-effort dinner she could get away with, and idly flipping channels on the TV.  As usual, there was not much on offer (she only had the most basic of basic cable packages), but through years of practice she had perfected the art of surfing until some mildly interesting nature documentary or reasonably mediocre action movie presented itself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was at this point that the evening took a sharp swerve off the road of ‘ordinary’ to go careening over the sheer cliffs of ‘what the actual fuck’.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It began almost imperceptibly, a noise that was lost in the other ambient noises that were drifting in from the night outside.  It wasn’t until the soft rattling became an outright clatter that Gideon’s attention was pulled away from the hunt for mindless entertainment.  She muted the TV and tilted her head, listening; the clatter came again, from a direction that was unmistakably the side of the house where she kept the garbage cans.  “Ah, shit,” she muttered, rising reluctantly from the couch.  Likely just a raccoon foraging for dinner, but it was best they didn’t learn that they could get it here.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jacket and boots redonned, flashlight in her hand, Gideon set out around the house to confront the tiny bandit.  “All right, little guy,” she said, flicking the flashlight on.  “I--”  She stopped short as the beam fell over the garbage cans.  The bandit she was confronting wasn’t nearly as tiny as she’d expected.  There, bent over one of the cans, one hand still inside, was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>girl--</span>
  </em>
  <span>a young woman, petite, with a sharp face framed by a shock of pitch-black hair, dressed in all black with a simple long-sleeved shirt and pants.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stared at each other, frozen, for a long moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, hi,” Gideon said, mostly because her mouth was on autopilot in the absence of her brain.  She took a step forward, and the mystery woman stiffened, hackles raising.  “Whoa,” Gideon said, softly retracting the step.  “It’s okay, I’m not--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was interrupted by a soft scrabbling sound.  Frowning, she followed it down to the ground.  There, drifting between the stalks of grass, was some sort of fine powder--Gideon first assumed it was dust, but it quickly coalesced into </span>
  <em>
    <span>bone,</span>
  </em>
  <span> sprouting outward at an astonishing speed into full skeletons of various animals, raccoons and squirrels and one that must’ve been a fox.  Gaping, Gideon returned her gaze to the young woman, who still had a ferocious glare trained on her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the fu--?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of the skeletons lunged, taking a flying leap at Gideon’s face that was frankly incredible given its utter lack of musculature, and Gideon batted at it on sheer panicked instinct, managing to swat it out of the air before it could give her an unpleasant clawing.  The rest of the skeletons were moving as well, a rushing, clattering swarm that came at her in a stream of osseous matter.  Gideon kicked at them; light and fragile, they went flying with a sharp </span>
  <em>
    <span>crack,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but for every one she got rid of, there were three more nipping at her ankles and trying to claw their way up her legs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Easy!” she found herself yelling.  “Easy, easy, easy!  Just </span>
  <em>
    <span>chill!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The mystery woman did not look like she intended to </span>
  <em>
    <span>chill;</span>
  </em>
  <span> she was still glaring at Gideon, clutching the side of the trash can so hard that it was starting to bend underneath her fingers.  Gideon took a lurching step towards her, which was a mistake, because the skeletal creatures went into an even more aggressive frenzy in response, swarming up her legs until there were so many of them latched onto her that she couldn’t walk properly.  She pitched forward, hitting the ground with an impact that made her teeth click.  The skeleton party came up and over her, and she felt their bones around her legs and arms, not just gripping but </span>
  <em>
    <span>shifting,</span>
  </em>
  <span> deforming until she was locked in place under a frame like an unyielding net.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman kept her hard gaze on Gideon for a few more moments and then, apparently satisfied that she was thoroughly incapacitated, turned to stalk away into the darkness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” Gideon called.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman froze, possibly due to the sheer improbability of the request.  Gideon couldn’t say herself why she’d called out.  Maybe it was because nobody went rooting through a garbage can in the middle of nowhere unless they were short on other options.  Maybe it was that she’d recognized the cold light in the young woman’s eyes as neither anger, nor violence, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>fear.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Making her voice as calm and reasonable as possible, Gideon continued, “Are you… are you hungry?  I’ve got food inside, if you want to eat something that’s not half-rotten…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The young woman stayed fixed in place, contemplating the offer silently.  Then she whirled around, marching back over to Gideon, stopping and dropping into a squat in front of her as she scanned her face critically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon tried to muster her best winning smile despite the circumstances.  “Why don’t you come in…?  I can feed you, and then if you’re in some kind of trouble, I can see what else I can do to help…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The young woman stared at her a moment longer, then shot back up to her feet in a single, sudden movement.  At the same time, Gideon felt the pressure on her limbs release as the cage of bone around her began to crumble away.  “Great!” she said with an overabundance of cheer as she unsteadily made her way back up to standing.  “Fantastic.  Right this way, then, Miss…?”  The young woman swept by her without a word, making a beeline for the front door.  “...okay,” Gideon mumbled to herself, before jogging to catch up with her impromptu guest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Food was a simple matter, as it always was in the Nav household; Gideon grabbed some tortillas and canned chicken from the pantry and a bag of shredded cheese from the fridge, and one microwaved minute later she set the results down in front of the mystery woman, who stared down at her plate as though it were the single strangest thing she could possibly conceive of.  “It’s a quesadilla,” Gideon said, and when she received a blank look in reply, elaborated, “It’s good.  Go on, eat up.”  The young woman’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Gideon heaved a sigh.  “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> not trying to poison you here… look.”  She reached forward--the young woman flinched back slightly--and tore off a chunk of the quesadilla between her thumb and forefinger.  “Mmmm,” Gideon said with unnecessary theatricality, chewing it and swallowing down.  “See?  Good.  Now you try.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The young woman glared suspiciously down at the quesadilla.  Gingerly, she picked it up with one hand and took a tentative nibble off the edge.  She chewed it contemplatively for a long moment, and then with sudden, shocking violence, wolfed down the remainder of the quesadilla in less than ten seconds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon’s eyebrows shot up.  “Well, I guess I was right about you being hungry.  You have a name?  Or do you not talk?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The young woman fixed her with another one of the glares that she seemed to have in inexhaustible supply.  “Harrow,” she said, apparently by way of reply to the first question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you do talk.”  Gideon grinned.  “Well, then, I guess I’ve had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harrowing</span>
  </em>
  <span> experience tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow stared at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, uh… you still hungry?  You want another quesadilla?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow’s gaze dropped back down to the empty plate in front of her.  “Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon prepared another quesadilla and served it up.  This time there was no hesitation; she barely had time to pull her hand away before Harrow set upon the quesadilla, devouring it.  Gideon frowned softly as she watched.  The glimmerings of intuition she’d had before were only deepening.  Harrow ate like a stray cat, like someone who didn’t trust that their food wouldn’t be snatched away at a moment’s notice.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are you from, Harrow?” she asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow didn’t answer, busying herself with wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You run away from home?” Gideon persisted.  “Or do you not have one?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t help me,” Harrow said flatly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well, maybe we can find someone in town who--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t help me,” Harrow repeated.  She rose to her feet and strode around the dining room table, bristling when she saw that Gideon wasn’t moving aside for her.  “Don’t try to keep me here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shit.  “Look, Harrow,” Gideon said, lifting both hands in a placating gesture.  “Of course I won’t keep you here if you don’t want to stay, but… where exactly do you intend to go?  It’s late, nothing’s open in town, and there’s fuck-all in walking distance of here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can take care of myself.”  Harrow’s eyes were locked on Gideon’s face; Gideon wasn’t sure if she was even blinking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, sure, okay, but consider…”  Gideon stepped backwards into the front room, Harrow tracking her as she went.  “You can go out there, sleep on a rock in the cold, maybe get rained on if the weather decides to be a bitch, </span>
  <em>
    <span>or….”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  She patted the back of the couch with one hand.  “You can sleep on this couch, which admittedly isn’t the best couch in the world, but I can guarantee that it beats a rock.  Not a high bar to clear there.  And as a bonus,” she gestured upward, “a roof over your head.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow kept her gaze on Gideon, worrying slightly at her lip with her teeth.  “Fine,” she said at last.  She crossed to the couch at a brisk pace--Gideon pulled aside as she maneuvered around her none too gently--and laid herself down on it.  The couch was long enough that Gideon could put her head on one armrest and have her feet dangle off the end of the other, so it held Harrow’s diminutive frame quite comfortably.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cool.  Great.  Make yourself comfortable.  My name’s Gideon, by the way.”  Gideon went to the dining room and retrieved the dish Harrow had been eating off of, transferring it to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>To Do</span>
  </em>
  <span> stack in the kitchen sink.  “Right, so one last question… how did you do the thing with the--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a sharp </span>
  <em>
    <span>SKRNCH</span>
  </em>
  <span> sound from the living room; startled, Gideon poked her head out of the kitchen to investigate.  Where Harrow had been lying on the couch moments before, now there was a dull off-white lump, like a roundish cocoon, just about the right size and shape to envelop a Harrow-sized figure curled into a fetal position.  Tentatively, Gideon ran her fingers over its surface.  It was hard and, well… bony.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh,” Gideon said, because there really wasn’t anything else to say about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bone cocoon thing was still there the next morning.  Gideon considered whether she should knock to see if Harrow was interested in breakfast, but wound up deciding that she likely needed sleep every bit as badly as she needed food.  Instead, she left a note wedged in between the cocoon and the couch cushion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Need to go to work.  Feel free to stay as long as you need.  There’s food in the kitchen.  - G</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was oddly banal, heading off to another day of work as though she hadn’t gotten buried in animated bone and taken in a half-feral stranger the night before.  Gideon took the turns to get her bike to the diner automatically, letting force of habit guide her while her mind wandered to more pressing questions.  She’d never seen Harrow around Doublesummit before--it was doubtful she would’ve forgotten that power glare.  That said, she hadn’t been kidding when she’d told Harrow that there was fuck-all in walking distance of the town.  It was, under the best of circumstances, a few hours’ hike to the closest town over, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was another dinky, forgettable town; aside from that, the only option for any semblance of civilization was a total ghost town.  How long had Harrow been living rough before raiding Gideon’s garbage?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, yeah, and lest we forget--how the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> did she do all that stuff with the bones?!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No answers had presented themselves by the time Gideon pulled up to the diner; she was so distracted on the way in that she nearly forgot to flip off Crux when he growled at her.  Aiglamene greeted her but didn’t offer any comment on her distraction; Gideon wasn’t sure whether this was because she hadn’t noticed, or because she’d learned from years of experience that Gideon would talk about what was on her mind when she was ready and not a moment sooner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In any event, Gideon was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> ready right now.  The over-familiar drudgery of her job duties was a relief in a way she’d never experienced before, simple questions with well-known answers to give her a break from the more complex problems swirling in her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The front door jingled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey there--”  Gideon looked up, ready to round out the greeting with the name of one of their regulars, only for it to die on her lips as she realized that she’d never seen this person before in her life.  She was lingering coyly at the door, hair light brown and curly, skin so pale it was nearly translucent--Gideon swore she could trace the path of deep blue veins through it, which was not exactly on the list of features she considered </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but somehow it was working for her.  Gideon felt her face heat up and was deeply grateful that Camilla wasn’t present to give her shit for being the easiest of easy marks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She found her voice.  “Um--what can I do for you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I was under the impression that you served food and coffee here.”  The woman’s deep blue eyes twinkled in a way that invited Gideon to be in on the joke even if it was at her expense.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right--uh--”  Willing herself to ignore the funny things that were happening in her stomach, Gideon set about clearing a space at the counter.  “You, um, okay with a stool?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A counter seat sounds </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>the woman said, genuinely sounding like there wasn’t anything in the world she would’ve desired more.  “All the better to talk to you from.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon quickly pretended to busy herself with the coffee machine in order to hide what was very visibly happening on her face.  Falling back on reflexes built from years of serving customers, she said, “Can I get you some coffee to start with?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That sounds lovely.  I’ll have… a twelve-ounce of your house coffee, please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cream and sugar?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Generous helpings of both.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon drew the coffee and set it down in front of the woman along with a fistful of tiny cream cups and sugar packets.  The woman opened her mouth, probably to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you</span>
  </em>
  <span> in a way that would send Gideon’s idiot brain into a tailspin again, but what actually came out was a huge, racking cough so violent that Gideon actually backed up a couple of steps from the counter on sheer startled instinct.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Excuse</span>
  </em>
  <span> me,” the woman said daintily, as though it were a normal, inopportune cough and not something that had Gideon surreptitiously checking her lap for bits of lung.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m… not well,” she admitted.  “It’s nothing you have to worry about catching, never fear.  My body’s simply not… functioning correctly.  That’s why I’m here.”  She smiled, wanly.  “Traveling while I still can, like.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon felt the faint, dangerous glimmerings of a long and detailed fantasy in which she dropped everything, got into med school, studied her ass off, became the world’s greatest doctor, then cured whatever was ailing this woman and swept her off her--“I was going to say, I haven’t seen you around before,” she said, willing herself to focus.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just passing through,” the woman said, shrugging.  “Though I may ‘pass through’ here as slowly as I can get away with.  This little town is </span>
  <em>
    <span>delightfully</span>
  </em>
  <span> quaint.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words ‘delightfully quaint’ would’ve made Gideon’s teeth itch if literally anybody else had spoken them, but…  “I’m Gideon,” she said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman beamed at her.  “A pleasure to meet you, Gideon,” she said.  “You can call me Dulcinea.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wasn't I supposed to be working on another project?  Oops.  Harrow the Ninth came out and it's been occupying my brainspace--I actually had this idea about a week before it dropped, but I wanted to wait so that I could integrate it into the fic, and boy was that a good decision.</p><p>Quick shout out to the Locked Tomb discord--you guys are great, even if you are enabling my continued obsession with these books.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Gideon took off to spend her break at home, which was unusual enough to cause Aiglamene to lift an eyebrow, but once again no comment was offered.  The entire ride back, Gideon couldn’t help but wonder if she was going to be returning to an empty house, with Harrow long gone.  This lasted up until the moment she opened the front door; the bone cocoon was gone from the couch, but the house was filled with the sorts of shuffling and clattering noises that might come from somebody doggedly digging through the contents of the pantry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harrow?” Gideon called.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The noises stopped; a moment later Harrow’s face appeared, peering suspiciously at Gideon as though she were an intruder and not the owner of the fucking house.  She had a can of chicken in her hands, half-opened with the lid bent violently upwards in a manner that made Gideon suspect she’d done some kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>bone thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> to force it open instead of using a can opener, and seemed to be picking pieces of shredded chicken out with her bare fingers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow followed Gideon’s gaze.  “I didn’t know how to make the quesadillas,” she said, as if that explained everything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> explain a bit, and compared to last night she had practically just poured her heart out.  “Here,” Gideon said.  “I’ll show you.  It’s pretty easy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow hovered just off of Gideon’s elbow, watching intently as Gideon went through the process of slapping a tortilla down, covering it with a layer of cheese, sprinkling in the shredded chicken, and slapping down another tortilla to top it off.  “Now we just put it in the microwave for a minute,” she said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Microwave,” Harrow repeated, as though tasting an unfamiliar word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, microwave…”  Gideon frowned.  “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> know what a microwave is, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow shook her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.  Well.”  Gideon slid the plate into the microwave, then closed the door and dialed in one minute, a bit slowly so Harrow could follow what she was doing.  “You just put it in like this, and it heats it up so that the cheese gets all melty and delicious.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How?” Harrow asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How… what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow rolled her eyes, letting a tiny snort out through her nostrils.  “How does it heat it up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon blinked.  “It--I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t know.”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Harrow made it sound like Gideon had just put her jacket on backwards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t!  How am I supposed to know how it works?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s in </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> house.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The logic of this retort was simultaneously so undeniably sound and yet utterly bizarre that Gideon could only splutter incoherently in response.  Harrow, apparently deciding that she wasn’t going to get anything of use out of her, returned her gaze to the lazy revolving of the quesadilla.  “Microwave,” she said again, in a way that made Gideon suspect she was committing it to memory to ask somebody else later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The microwave beeped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All right, here we go,” Gideon sighed, gingerly retrieving the plate from the microwave with her fingertips.  She added, “Nope, hot plate,” dodging Harrow’s attempt to snatch it out of her hands and laying it down on the kitchen counter to cool.  Harrow glared sullenly at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So…”  Gideon tucked her hands in her pockets and leaned against a counter with affected casualness, glancing sidelong at Harrow as she watched steam curl up from the cooling quesadilla.  “We didn’t really… get a chance to talk about your story last night, Harrow…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t help me,” Harrow replied, automatic, flat.  Her eyes were still fixed on the quesadilla.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, so much for trying the subtle approach.  “Look, Harrow,” Gideon said.  “You don’t know me, you don’t know how I might be able to help you.  And </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>won’t know if I can help you unless I know what kind of trouble you’re in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow stiffened slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s pretty obvious that you are,” Gideon continued softly.  “If I can’t help you, I might know somebody who can.  Come on, just tell me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow’s head shook slowly from side to side, her gaze not wavering from the quesadilla.  “It’s better if you don’t know,” she said.  “There’s nobody here who can help me.  There might not be anybody in the world who can help me.  If you try to get involved, you’ll just get yourself killed.  They’re too dangerous.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘They’...?”  Gideon was on the verge of asking for elaboration, but a tiny flicker of movement from Harrow distracted her.  The young woman had finally broken away from the quesadilla to glance at Gideon, then back to the quesadilla with an uncomfortable little fidget.  Gideon’s intuition kicked in again, and what it was telling her made her a bit nauseous.  “Harrow, are you… waiting for me to say you can eat?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You said not to,” Harrow replied in a colorless voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fucking--”  Gideon dragged a hand over her face, gritting her teeth against anger at herself for what she’d inadvertently done.  “Harrow, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to burn your tongue.  Of course you can go ahead and eat--”  She’d barely even gotten the words out before Harrow had snatched up the quesadilla and wolfed it down in that unsettling stray-cat way of hers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon watched her eat, lips pressed together.  “Right,” she said.  “Okay.  We are making a new rule, effective right now.”  She raised a pointer finger to the heavens for emphasis.  “In this house, Harrow is allowed to eat whenever she wants, no matter what Gideon Nav or anybody else says.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow stared at her, wide-eyed and blinking in what was probably the first expression of earnest surprise Gideon had seen from her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anyway,” Gideon said.  “You want to try making one yourself while I watch?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The process was straightforward, and would’ve been entirely mundane if it weren’t for the intense laser-focus Harrow brought to every step, carefully layering the cheese down and evening it out with one finger, putting the chicken on piece by piece, carefully settling the top tortilla down so that it was even with the edges of the bottom one.  Gideon bit her tongue and said nothing, even holding her peace when Harrow snatched the quesadilla directly out of the microwave after it beeped, only speaking up once she’d attempted to take a bite and dropped it back on the plate with a muttered </span>
  <em>
    <span>“ouch”.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  “Yeah, see, stuff’s pretty hot when it comes out of the microwave,” Gideon said.  “It’s a good idea to give it a minute or two to cool down before you try to eat it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow looked back at her.  “That’s why you told me not to eat the last one when you took it out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see.”  Once again, Harrow sounded like she was logging away important information for later reference.  The more Gideon found out about her, the more unpleasant the niggling questions at the back of her mind got.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, I’m going to have to get back to work before long,” Gideon said.  She went to the pantry to retrieve a couple of granola bars for her own lunch; it would be a lie to say that this was unprecedented for her.  “I’ll be back in a few hours.  Make yourself comfortable until then.  If you want to watch TV--oh,” she added, seeing Harrow’s look of confusion.  “That’s… here, let me show you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow followed her over to the TV nook in the front room and perched herself on the couch while Gideon retrieved the remote from the floor.  “This turns it on and off,” she said, pointing to the power button and then pressing it as a demonstration.  Harrow started slightly as the TV switched on.  “These control how loud it is, and these let you go back and forth between different things… I think that’s enough to get you started.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow took the remote and flipped a few channels experimentally, staring in fixated fascination at the results.  She was still glued to the screen a little while later when Gideon pulled on her jacket and boots and headed out the front door, not even bothering to respond to “Right, well, later, Harrow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once again, Gideon’s mind was full of questions as she mounted her bike and kicked off down the road back to the diner.  She’d made zero progress on the ‘getting Harrow to talk about her deal’ front, but she’d managed to pick up some information in between the lines nonetheless.  First, despite being roughly Gideon’s age at a guess--a year or two younger at most--Harrow was utterly unfamiliar with common appliances such as microwaves and televisions.  Second, she was apparently so used to doing as she was told that she’d automatically obeyed what she’d interpreted as a command not to eat, in spite of being hungry.  While the picture she was getting of Harrow’s upbringing was still hazy, Gideon couldn’t really come up with a better description for it than </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely fucked.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  And that of course led into the third thing: whoever it was that had raised Harrow, she was apparently of the opinion that they’d kill Gideon to get her back.  That might just be her fucked-up childhood talking… but then again, it might </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon couldn’t let Harrow stay on her couch forever, but any hope of this situation having a straightforward solution was rapidly fading.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dulcinea was still sitting at the counter when Gideon came in, and it was a testament to Gideon’s sheer level of distraction that the smile she leveled at her was only mildly flustering.  “You have a good lunch?” she asked, sounding more interested in the events of Gideon’s break than anybody had any right to be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Gideon said, ignoring the fact that her stomach was already beginning to gurgle demandingly as she slipped her apron back on.  One major advantage of working at a diner was an abundance of options for snacks on site.  “Anything I can get for you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So eager to please,” Dulcinea cooed, and Gideon had to bite her tongue to keep from replying </span>
  <em>
    <span>Only if it’s you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  She had to try and keep </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> shred of her dignity intact, here.  “Actually, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind telling me a little bit about this lovely town of yours.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon snorted softly.  “I mean, it’s not that I </span>
  <em>
    <span>mind,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but once you’ve been here awhile you’ll find that the quaint idyll comes from the fact that it’s mind-numbingly boring here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it really that bad?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let me put it this way: last year a fox got into old man Henderson’s henhouse and the whole town talked about it for a week.”  It had specifically been in April of last year, and the fact that Gideon could recall that off the top of her head only served to drive the point home further.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dulcinea’s reply was cut off by the jingling of the diner’s door.  “Oh, afternoon, Marta,” Gideon said, looking up at the dark-skinned, uniformed woman who had just walked in.  “Ah--Dulcinea, this is Marta Dyas, half of our local police department.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ma’am,” Marta said with a curt nod.  “Gideon.  How are things around here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, we’ve got a mysterious stranger on her way through town,” Gideon said, jerking a thumb at Dulcinea, “which means this is the most excitement we’ve had all month.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” Marta said; Gideon wasn’t sure if it was supposed to indicate amusement or not.  “Nothing else going on?  You haven’t had any disturbances, or anything like that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon’s eyebrows jumped up.  “Disturbances?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Last night, specifically,” Marta elaborated.  Gideon sucked in an involuntary breath; her heartbeat sped up just a bit.  “We had a few calls about it.  People saying there was something moving around outside their homes.  I’m investigating in case it’s a prowler.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon let out a chuckle that was just a tad too weak and shaky.  “Probably just racoons rummaging through people’s trash,” she said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm.”  Marta was looking at Gideon with a distinct air of dubiousness, though in fairness she had been dubious of Gideon ever since that incident with the town sign a few years back.  (As though Gideon hadn’t spent a full hour carefully repainting it afterwards to make up for it.)  “You live out on the west side, don’t you?  Did you hear anything… unusual, last night?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon’s heart was hammering against her ribcage at this point, but the lie came automatically to her lips.  “Nope,” she said with forced lightness.  “Quiet as the grave.”  Instantly, she wished she had said just about </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> else, but before the conversation could proceed, Marta’s phone rang.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marta fished the device out of her pocket, glanced at the screen, and answered it.  “Yes, Chief?” she said, then listened intently the way she always did when Chief Judith Deuteros was speaking.  “But… who are they?”  More listening.  “I see.  Did they at least tell you--”  Cut off, yet more listening.  “Well, that’s… yes, of course.  I understand.  I’ll return to the station as soon as I can.”  She ended the call and crisply returned the phone to its place in her pocket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something up?” Gideon asked, incredibly relieved that her scrutiny had been redirected elsewhere.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope… probably not,” Marta said.  “Official business to deal with, that’s all.  You give us a call if you see or hear anything unusual, all right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course,’ Gideon lied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t a huge surprise to find Harrow still fixated on the television when Gideon got home that evening.  “You know, too much of that and you’ll rot your brain,” Gideon called as she doffed her coat in the entryway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To her shock, Harrow sprang up off the couch as though it had suddenly turned red-hot.  “Why didn’t you tell me that before?!” she demanded, shielding her eyes from the screen with one hand while she groped for the remote with the other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shit, no, Harrow, I’m sorry,” Gideon sighed.  “That’s not--it’s just a thing people say, it’s not actually true.  I mean, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally</span>
  </em>
  <span> true, anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow looked at her skeptically, but she lowered the hand that was protecting her eyes.  “Why do people say it if it’s not true?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I, um.  Well.”  For all that Gideon had known her less than twenty-four hours, Harrow was displaying an uncanny knack for asking questions that she’d never really thought about before.  “It’s… rhetorical?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmph,” Harrow said, clearly unimpressed with the answer, but she sat herself back down on the couch and returned her attention to the TV.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You find anything interesting to watch while I was at work?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow lifted an arm and pointed at the screen.  “This,” she said.  “It’s about penguins.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Penguins?” Gideon asked, crossing over behind the couch and leaning over the back to see.  Sure enough, a waddle of penguins was making their way across an icy landscape.  “Huh.  Yeah, some of those nature programs are pretty cool.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I knew about penguins,” Harrow said, “I mean, I knew that they existed, but I never learned much about them in the--I never learned much about them before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon’s eyebrows were about up at her hairline, but she decided that it wasn’t an opportune moment to press.  “Well, you can keep watching while I make us dinner,” she said instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quesadillas?” Harrow asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know that there’s other kinds of food than quesadillas, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know.”  Harrow wrinkled her nose slightly, an odd expression on her otherwise serious face.  “But I don’t like it very much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I--what?”  Gideon blinked, and Harrow looked back at her with a soft frown of confusion.  “You know what, never mind.  I’ll just--I’ll whip something up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dulcinea showed up again the next morning, prompting Gideon to say, “Back again?  You were here all day yesterday,” before her brain could kick in with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gift horse, mouth, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>shut up.</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fortunately Dulcinea just smiled and shrugged in response.  “What can I say?  I enjoy marinating in the local color.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, if you’re going to look at it that way, I suppose…”  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck’s sake, Gideon, cut it out before the pretty woman changes her mind and spends her day somewhere else.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  “You’re more than welcome, of course.  Uh, as long as you’re ordering.  The boss is pretty particular about that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And a generous tip for my lovely waitress as well?” Dulcinea said with a wink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only reason Gideon didn’t lie down on the floor and pass out was that it would have been horribly unprofessional, and kind of pathetic.  Instead, mustering all her willpower, she managed to reply with a single, eloquent, “Um.”  Dulcinea seemed to find this indescribably hilarious, because her shoulders were shaking with silent laughter as she settled herself into the same seat at the counter that she had occupied the previous day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The normal crowd of regulars flowed around them.  It was Abigail’s day to shepherd the teens around, which meant that they were served an actually reasonable amount of pie; Abigail herself stopped to chat with Dulcinea, the sort of friendly-but-shallow small talk that was common between strangers and which Gideon only half-listened too.  As before, Dulcinea mentioned that she was passing through while travelling, and when Abigail pressed for her hometown, she demurred that it wasn’t a terribly interesting place and that Abigail had almost certainly never heard of it.  This was fair, given that there were any number of small, nondescript towns in Doublesummit’s vein in the general area.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was maybe twenty minutes after Abigail had herded the teens back out that the front door jingled open to admit two strangers--and </span>
  <em>
    <span>strange</span>
  </em>
  <span> strangers at that.  Looking up, Gideon’s first impression was of white; the slender, smallish man who was at the head of the duo was pale in every aspect, from his bleached-out, slicked-back hair, to a blindingly crisp white suit and tie, to skin that, had he not just walked in from the outdoors, Gideon would’ve sworn had never known the touch of sunlight.  His companion, a larger, more grizzled-looking man, was less overwhelmingly pale but wore an identical pristine white suit and tie, with only a gray undershirt preventing the ensemble from flattening into a blob of indistinct colorlessness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I… help you?” Gideon asked with more skepticism in her voice than Aiglamene would’ve liked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That remains to be seen.”  The pale man was looking off to the side with an expression of mild surprise and distaste; following his gaze, Gideon saw that he was making it at Dulcinea, which had her about ready to vault the counter and take it up with him hand-to-hand.  The only thing stopping her was how well Dulcinea was taking it, gazing cooly back at him with a single raised eyebrow and the ghost of an amused smile on her face.  Gideon was glad she wasn’t the only one who had these two pegged as total clowns.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rallying her best veneer of superficial customer-service pleasantness, she said, “So can I get you some coffee, or…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re not here for coffee,” said the pale man contemptuously, as though he couldn’t imagine anything more frivolous.  “We’re on official business.  We’re looking for somebody who we have reason to believe may be hiding out somewhere in this town.  This individual is incredibly dangerous, and we would appreciate any assistance rendered in apprehending her as soon as possible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He withdrew a photograph from his breast pocket, and knowing with sickening certainty what she was about to see didn’t prevent an unpleasant shock from racing through Gideon’s body at the sight of Harrow’s face glowering up at her from what was, if not an actual prison mugshot, at least very clearly styled after one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A lot of things happened very quickly in Gideon’s brain at this point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow had made it clear that somebody dangerous was after her, and now here were these two guys whose getups couldn’t have screamed </span>
  <em>
    <span>spook</span>
  </em>
  <span> louder if they’d had the word spelled out on neon signs mounted on their chests, asking pointed questions about her.  Moreover, they were claiming that </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the dangerous one, which Gideon had to admit stacked up with her experience of being buried in animated bone the other night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But was Harrow </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> dangerous?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was, but… not in, like, a serial-killer way, the way that this pale asshole seemed to be implying.  She was like a feral cat, tightly wound, hypervigilant, quick to lash out at anything that she perceived as a threat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And of course, the thing about that was, cats usually got like that when some asshole had gone and kicked them one time too many.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you seen this girl?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The voice was a slightly scratchy baritone.  Gideon realized with a start that she had been staring at the photograph for far too long.  The larger, less bleached guy had been the one who had spoken; the pale one was currently scanning her face with an uncomfortably penetrating gaze.  Mustering all the affected disinterest she could, Gideon replied, “Never seen her before in my life.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that so?” asked the pale one, tone maddeningly neutral.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trust me.”  Gideon scooped up a cup and started cleaning it to hide the fact that her hands were about to start shaking hard enough to fall off her wrists.  “Diner like this, town this size, I see the same faces day after day, week after week.  Any new ones tend to stick out.  I’d remember if I’d seen her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see.”  Without elaborating on what it was he </span>
  <em>
    <span>saw,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the pale one turned to his companion.  “Then there’s no point lingering here for the moment.  Agent Colum?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“After you, Agent Silas,” the larger one said.  He held the door open for his partner to walk out--Gideon was </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> astonished that the guy didn’t burst into flames in the sun--but hesitated before following him, shooting a probing look back in Gideon’s direction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> see her,” he said, “or if you see or hear anything out of the ordinary--we’re working with the local police department.  You can reach us through them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Gideon lied, again.  “Sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They certainly were an odd pair,” Dulcinea commented as the door swung shut behind him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No shit,” Gideon mumbled, half to herself, beginning to re-clean the cup she had been cleaning a few moments ago.  This whole thing was starting to get out of hand, and fast.  She needed answers, and if Harrow wasn’t willing to provide them, then there was only one other person in town who might be able to.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Flustered gay Gideon is ridiculously fun to write.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Knock-knock.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door swung open to reveal Camilla.  “Gideon, hey,” she said, with the inflection that meant </span>
  <em>
    <span>I had no idea you were planning on showing up today.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Gideon said.  “Is Sex Pal around?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Camilla’s eyebrows shot up, but all she said was, “Of course.  Come in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.”  Gideon eased her way in past Camilla and stood in the entryway, tugging her boots off her feet and squeezing them into the rickety shoe rack that stood just inside the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gideon!”  The man himself was bowed over the railing of the upper floor balcony, looking down with a friendly grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s here to see you,” Camilla said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The grin disappeared, replaced with an expression of frank astonishment.  “Well--of course,” Palamedes said.  “Whatever you need, I’d be glad to help as best I can.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon took a moment to work out all the kinks and aches from work, rolling her shoulders, cracking her neck, wiggling her toes.  Then she crossed her arms and leaned herself sideways against the entryway wall.  “What can you tell me,” she said, “about bones?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a long silence as both Camilla and Palamedes stared at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re a type of rigid organ that provides body structure in most vertebrates,” Palamedes finally answered.  “You have some.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, you know what, that’s on me,” Gideon said.  “Look--Camilla said the other day that you were into some kind of weird occult stuff?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Palamedes lifted an eyebrow.  “I guess you could say that.  Why don’t you come up into my study?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thus invited, Gideon ascended the staircase, Camilla following close behind her.  Palamedes’ study was a space entirely his own, where the chaos that lurked inside his head was let off its leash.  Mismatched bookshelves stood full of books organized in whatever esoteric system made sense to him, with those of immediate interest pulled out and left in precarious stacks wherever there was space on the floor.  His desk was covered with papers, and a cork board above it held those important enough to be raised to its lofty heights and pinned into place.  Gideon settled down onto a couch that had been shoved into one corner, moving aside a rumpled blanket left over from the last time Palamedes hadn’t felt like making the twenty-foot trek to his bedroom.  Palamedes sat in the chair at his desk, swiveling it around so that he could face Gideon.  Camilla shut the door behind her and took up a position leaning back against it; there was no need to ask if it was okay for her to hear what Gideon had to say.  There wasn’t a thing in the world Gideon would’ve kept secret from Camilla Hect.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Palamedes said, steepling his fingers in the way people were only supposed to do in movies.  “Let’s try that again from the top.  You have questions about occult stuff… apparently involving bones?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Gideon said.  “Well--I mean, I’m assuming it’s some kind of occult stuff.  Unless you can think of another reason bones would kind of… get up and move.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Palamedes’ glasses slid slightly down his nose; he pushed them firmly back into place with a single finger.  “I’m assuming you mean… get up and move </span>
  <em>
    <span>on their own?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was sort of, but not entirely, accurate, a sentiment that Gideon chose to express via the sound “Eeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhh…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Palamedes said, smirking slightly.  “Would it be more accurate, then, to say that the bones are moving due to a likely proximal cause, but that the actual motive means are unknown?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Being friends with Palamedes had been better for Gideon’s vocabulary than all her years of schooling put together.  “Yeah,” she said.  “Yeah, it would be pretty accurate to say that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Palamedes said again.  Gideon willed herself to wait patiently as he settled back in his chair, face set in a frown of deep thought, thumb absently stroking along his jawline.  “Well, it’s hard to say very much without knowing specifics,” he said at last, “but broadly speaking, what you’ve seen falls under the umbrella of </span>
  <em>
    <span>necromancy.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Neck-romancy?”  Gideon tilted her head.  “What, like a neck fetish?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Necro-mancy,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Palamedes repeated with infinite patience as Camilla snorted.  “A sphere of magic concerned with the dead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“...magic?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Palamedes waved an airy hand.  “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,” he said.  “Conversely, any sufficiently analyzed magic is indistinguishable from science.  For instance, witch’s brews were once considered the domain of folklore and superstition.  Then scientists discovered that certain species of frogs have naturally occurring antibiotics within their skin.  Suddenly, boiling one up in a cauldron seems like a far more reasonable way to treat illness, doesn’t it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” agreed Gideon, who was at this point thoroughly lost.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What Palamedes is </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get across here,” Camilla supplied helpfully, “is that myths often contain a kernel of truth, sometimes far more.  He’s been researching exactly how much truth there is in legends of magicians dealing with the dead, and he’s not the only one who’s been doing so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon ran a hand through her hair; she was more bewildered than ever, and she’d come in seeking clarity.  “But what’s the point?” she asked.  “What the hell do you get out of fucking around with skeletons and ghosts and whatever?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Depending on which legends are true, any number of benefits,” Palamedes said.  “Sculpting flesh with a thought?  Surgery just became infinitely less complicated.  Or you could conjure up the shades of the dead to learn what they know, revolutionize our understanding of history.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Or,” Camilla put in, “you could create an army of nigh-unkillable soldiers for war.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Palamedes grimaced.  “A bit… gauche, but yes, that’s another potential use.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon’s lips twitched into a frown.  In her mind’s eye, she saw a horde of animated skeletons rushing a group of enemy soldiers, while a small, black-clad form lingered behind, watching the scene with that intense laser-focus of hers… it was all too easy to picture.  “Right,” she muttered.  “Okay.  Then the question is, who around here is interested in this necromancy stuff?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m assuming you mean besides me,” Palamedes said mildly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, yes, obviously.”  Gideon shook her head.  “No offense, Sex Pal, but I’m looking for a bigger operation.”  She thought back on the two white-clad spooks who had visited the diner.  “Something with… clout.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Palamedes and Camilla traded a glance.  “It’s sounding like you had more than a passing encounter, here,” Palamedes said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s… accurate.”  Well, any chance of keeping this conversation innocuous was now thoroughly rumbled; not that she’d had much hope of that in the first place.  “Look, um… I know this sounds really sketchy, but please--can you not tell anybody else that I was asking about this stuff?  I mean, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because of those guys in the white suits?” Camilla asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon blinked.  “How did you know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I figured it was either them or, you know, those </span>
  <em>
    <span>other</span>
  </em>
  <span> guys who are going around town grilling people about whether they’ve seen anything weird recently.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...okay, fair,” Gideon sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Camilla tilted her head to the side, her dark eyes boring into Gideon.  “Listen, Gideon… are you in some kind of trouble, here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.”  Gideon’s hand bunched up into a fist at her knee.  “I mean… not yet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm.”  Camilla looked unconvinced.  “Well… I know I’m talking to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> here, but… be careful, okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon grinned ruefully.  “Thanks.  I’ll try.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon wasn’t quite sure how much of a sense of time or routine Harrow had developed over the last couple of days of staying with her, but she figured it wasn’t a great idea to make her wait for dinner.  This was why, when she returned home later that evening, she had a paper bag in her hand with two burgers and an over-generous number of fries.  (The fact that this gave Gideon herself an excuse to have burgers for dinner was a tangential benefit.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow was, once again, absorbed in the TV; she gave no acknowledgement to Gideon’s return.  She’d curled herself into a ball on the couch, knees drawn up to her chest with her chin resting on them and her arms encircling her legs.  “Found something interesting?” Gideon asked as she kicked off her boots.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Harrow replied, not taking her eyes off the screen.  “It’s… a story.  There’s this man, and he’s done something bad and they’re after him for it, but I think he’s also supposed to be good?  And he has a daughter, and she likes this other man and he likes her, but he’s also friends with this group of other people, and they’re upset because the people in charge are bad, and so they’re trying to do something about that, but now they’re just getting shot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh,” Gideon said, coming over to the TV nook.  Sure enough, the characters on screen were getting rather brutally shot to pieces.  “You picked some heavy viewing for tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s… interesting,” Harrow said.  “The one thing I can’t figure out is why they’re all dressed so strangely.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s because this story takes place a couple hundred years ago.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really?”  Harrow’s head swiveled around, eyes blinking in astonishment.  “How do you know that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh--”  Gideon was taken slightly aback by the sudden intensity of Harrow’s gaze.  “Because that’s how people dressed back then.  And because I know this story.  It’s kind of famous.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow returned her attention to the screen.  “Interesting…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon swung one leg up and then the other, sliding over the back of the couch to land with a slight </span>
  <em>
    <span>whump</span>
  </em>
  <span> next to Harrow.  “Food here if you want it,” she said, plopping the slightly greasy bag between them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow glanced over at it, and with one hand nudged it open and rummaged around its contents, withdrawing a single fry.  “What is </span>
  <em>
    <span>this?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she asked with an expression of open skepticism on her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A fry,” Gideon said.  “They’re good, try it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still looking skeptical, Harrow flipped the fry lengthwise and nibbled experimentally at one end.  “Salty,” she commented, wrinkling her nose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Gideon agreed, grinning.  “That’s what makes them so good.”  She fished a tiny, sealed plastic cup out of the bag.  “Ketchup?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Glaring at the ketchup as though she strongly suspected it was poisonous, Harrow methodically chomped down the remainder of her fry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All right, more for me then.”  Gideon popped the cap off the ketchup cup and scooped up a generous dollop out with her own fry.  “There’s a couple of burgers in there too, so be sure to grab one of them.  They’re the--if you’ll pardon the pun--</span>
  <em>
    <span>meat</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the meal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow looked at her blankly, but she withdrew a paper-wrapped burger from the bag.  Frowning softly at it, she peeled off the wrapping and took a bite out of it, which she then promptly spat back out with a loud, incoherent noise of disgust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harrow?!” Gideon asked, suddenly sitting bolt upright.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Taste,” Harrow spluttered while making movements with her tongue as though she were attempting to eject it from her mouth.  “Too… too much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Too much…?”  Gideon thought for a moment, then lightly took Harrow’s burger out of her hands.  She lifted the top bun and peeled off the pickles--sure enough, a big chunk of one of them had been in the bite Harrow had taken--and then, as an afterthought, gently scraped off as much ketchup and mustard as she could with one finger, wiping it awkwardly on the discarded wrapper.  “There,” she said, replacing the top bun and handing the burger back to Harrow.  “Try it like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow looked more ready to start a fight with it, but she sullenly took a tentative nibble.  As Gideon watched, her expression melted into something softer--almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>pleased,</span>
  </em>
  <span> even--and she took a far more generous bite, chewing it over with satisfaction.  “Better?” Gideon asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Better,” Harrow agreed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon’s eyes lingered on her as her attention drifted back to the screen.  There were so many questions she felt like she should ask Harrow--about this necromancy stuff, about the spooks, about what the hell she planned to do in the long run--but it was strangely difficult, sitting there watching her contentedly chomp away at her burger.  With a soft sigh, Gideon shifted herself to face forward, letting her arm drape along the back of the couch.  She could afford to let Harrow enjoy her evening.  There’d be time tomorrow to get everything figured out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you have to go to work?” Harrow asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not just yet,” Gideon grunted, straightening up from the final squat of her set.  “I’ve got the morning off.  Or are you that desperate to get rid of me and have the house to yourself?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I--” Harrow began, looking genuinely distressed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon grinned.  “Relax, Harrow, I’m joking.”  She wiped a bead of sweat from her eyebrow.  “Hey, you’ve kept yourself cooped up in here ever since the other night, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes…” Harrow said slowly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, we’ve got a few hours before I need to be anywhere.  It’s… not a good idea to go into town, but I know some backwoods trails around here that are pretty much always deserted, so maybe we can--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was luck that she was talking about going outside, luck that the thought made her glance out the window in time to see the two white-clad spooks as they were advancing up the drive.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Shit,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she hissed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow stepped forward, but Gideon held up a hand to stop her.  “Stay there!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s--?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just--stay there and stay out of sight.  I need to deal with this.  I’ll be back in just a moment.”  Violently yanking on her boots, not even bothering to tie them, Gideon stepped out onto her porch.  Her appearance stopped the two spooks in their tracks, and they stood looking at her a few yards away.  “Can I help you?” Gideon asked in her best </span>
  <em>
    <span>what the fuck do you think you’re doing here</span>
  </em>
  <span> voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pale one gave her a wan smile.  “I believe you can,” he said.  “The question is, </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon hopped over the porch steps down to the ground and crossed her arms.  “Anytime you feel like cutting the cryptic bullshit is fine by me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine.”  He raised his chin and fixed her with a searing look.  “We’ve searched this town top to bottom for our quarry.  Nobody has seen hide nor hair of her… but one person hesitated when we showed them her picture.  Enough to make me think that this person might know more than they’re letting on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon’s stomach lurched.  “I told you, I’ve never seen her before in my life.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You did tell us that, yes.  The thing is… I’m fairly sure you were lying.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re here to search your house,” the grizzled one added in his rough baritone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cool.  You got a warrant?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t operate that way,” the pale one said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good for you.  Then you’re not searching my house.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your belligerence is not doing you any favors.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What can I say?  A couple of G-men show up unannounced, start interrogating me and demanding to search my house… it makes me just a bit tetchy.”  Gideon planted her feet, squared her shoulders, and put everything she had into staring the two of them down.  “Now get the fuck out of here and come back when you have a warrant.  Have Judith and Marta help you out if you’re having trouble wrapping your tiny brains around it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pale one drew in a deep breath, let out a long-suffering sigh, then turned to his compatriot.  “Agent Colum?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I stand ready, Agent Silas.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s begin.”  The pale one--Silas--laid a hand on Colum’s shoulder.  Gideon frowned in confusion; it looked for all the world like Silas was </span>
  <em>
    <span>comforting</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, but she couldn’t begin to imagine why, or why now.  Then the sharp smell of ozone entered her nostrils, and she realized that the color had started to fade from Colum’s figure.  His expression had gone neutral and dull as he swiftly became a faded, washed-out shadow of himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silas removed his hand.  In contrast, he seemed suddenly brighter, more vibrant, the air around him almost thrumming with life, with </span>
  <em>
    <span>power.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  He lifted a hand in an aggressive gesture, and Gideon belatedly realized that it might not have been a good idea to just stand by and let this happen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silas launched himself at her with inhuman speed, crossing the distance separating them in just a couple of heartbeats.  Gideon just barely had time to get out, “What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck--?!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> before his hand closed around her arm and hauled.  She felt her feet lift off the ground, and quite suddenly she was in midair, staring down at the dirt and grass with a vague thought of </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, this is going to hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span> before the thought unfortunately proved prescient.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hit the ground at a tumble, and it was only through sheer panicked instinct that she was able to come to a halt with her feet underneath her.  Ignoring the pain twinging through her body, she went for Silas, arm up and cocked back to deliver a haymaker.  Silas batted the blow aside with one hand and allowed her momentum to carry her into the other; it was unpleasantly like running into solid steel, and Gideon found herself shoved to the ground, landing flat on her back so hard that it drove the breath out of her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The questions that would follow your death will be inconvenient to deal with,” Silas said, looking down at her, “but not insurmountable.  I recommend cooperating while you still have the chance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Too winded to form a verbal reply, Gideon expressed herself by way of a two-handed double-bird salute.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunate,” Silas sighed.  “Well, then--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sound tore through the air, startling both of them into stillness.  It took Gideon a moment to process that she was hearing a </span>
  <em>
    <span>cry,</span>
  </em>
  <span> so wild and reckless in its fury that she scarcely would have categorized it as human, but--</span>
  <em>
    <span>oh shit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door to the house stood open, and Harrow stood on the porch before them.  Silas began to turn to her, but she flung both hands out at him.  Bone dust leaped from the ground, agitated, as it had the night Gideon had found her digging through the trash, but this time it resolved into </span>
  <em>
    <span>spikes</span>
  </em>
  <span> of solid bone.  Silas let out a strangled cry as they punched into the meat of his legs, creating blossoms of crimson on his white suit; Gideon got her hands and feet beneath her and scuttled backwards as fast as she could manage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow stuffed her hands into her sleeves and withdrew two fistfuls of something; it was only when she let them fly towards Silas that Gideon realized they were tiny chips of bone.  Even as she parsed this, they were lengthening and sharpening into more spikes that slammed one after the other into Silas’s torso, each impact forcing another wet gasp out of his throat until the last of his breath drained out of him like the air leaving a balloon.  He slumped forward, legs still fixed in place by the spikes that had sprung from the ground a moment ago.  His formerly immaculate suit was now more red than white.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somebody was making a long, strangled noise.  Gideon was a bit surprised to find that it was her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gideon!”  Harrow was scampering towards her, almost dropping to all fours in her hurry.  Bloody sweat had beaded along her brow, and there was a red trickle coming from one of her nostrils.  “Gideon--Gideon--are you hurt?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You called me by name,” Gideon croaked.  It seemed important at the moment, somehow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow crouched over her, running her hands along her body, checking for injury.  “I’m sorry,” she panted.  “I’m sorry--this is all my fault--should’ve known better than to stay--should’ve moved on right away--now I’ve brought them here and brought them down on you--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You did warn me.”  Gideon waved Harrows ministrations away and rose unsteadily to her feet.  “I could’ve kicked you out, but I didn’t, even though I could tell things were getting hot.  Anyway, it’s done.  We’re in this together now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow looked up at her with an expression more earnest and open than anything Gideon had seen on her face yet, enough to make her heart squeeze painfully.  “We are?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean--I don’t know how deep in this Judith and Marta are, but it’s going to be hard to explain a corpse to them.  We should get out of here.”  Her eyes drifted over to Colum, who was still standing where Silas had left him, insensate and greyed-out.  “Ah, shit.  What do we do about him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow’s expression hardened, and she whirled about, marching over to the motionless man.  Before Gideon could even formulate a question, a bone blade sprang into existence in her hand, and she rammed it mercilessly into his throat.  There was a spurt of blood, and he flopped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harrow!” Gideon yelped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was mercy,” Harrow replied dully.  “Compared to leaving him like that.”  She waved a hand in Silas’s direction, and the spikes buried in his body dislodged themselves with a highly unpleasant </span>
  <em>
    <span>squelch, </span>
  </em>
  <span>sending him sprawling to the ground as well.  By the time the spikes had made their way back to Harrow’s hands, they had shrunk back into bone chips.  “Where are we going?” she asked as she tucked them back away into her sleeves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m still figuring that out,” Gideon said, though in truth she was in the process of accepting that there was only one realistic option.  She returned to the house long enough to retrieve her coat and shades, donning them both as she exited again and, perhaps out of an abundance of optimism, closed and locked the door behind her.  With that, she strode over to where her bike was parked and mounted it.  “Okay.  Get on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bike shifted slightly as Harrow climbed on behind her.  Her voice was just a bit wavery as she asked, “Er--what should I hold onto?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a pause, and then Gideon felt Harrow’s arms encircle her at the bottom of her ribcage.  She kicked off, and Harrow yelped as the motorcycle roared to life, carrying them away from the grisly scene.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was hard to say whether the ride lasted forever or no time at all.  Harrow was clinging to her for dear life, the side of her face nestled into Gideon’s back.  Meanwhile, Gideon kept her gaze fixed on the road ahead, continually failing to process how completely everything had changed in the space of a few minutes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, they pulled up the drive to Camilla and Palamades’ house.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon had to pry Harrow’s deathgrip off of her before Harrow seemed to comprehend that, yes, the bike had in fact come to a stop and it was now safe to get off.  Together, they went to the front door.  Gideon knocked, hard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a few moments, Camilla answered.  Wordlessly, her gaze landed on Gideon, then shifted to Harrow--they probably had a few stray blood splatters between them--then back to Gideon, the obvious question in her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Camilla,” Gideon said, not quite able to keep an edge of desperation out of her voice.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I need to hide the bodies.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The question vanished, replaced by grim determination.  It was a code they’d had between them for years, one that had only been invoked a handful of times in the course of their lifelong friendship: a swift, succinct way to express that there was no time to explain, and that it was a matter of life and death.  “Come in,” Camilla said, standing aside so they could enter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did I just hear Gideon’s voice?” Palamedes called from deeper in the house.  “I didn’t realize she was going to--”  He appeared in the doorway to the kitchen and froze mid-sentence, taking in Gideon’s dishevelled appearance, and Harrow’s, well, existence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Palamedes,” Gideon said.  “I’m sorry, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> sorry, but--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“--this is an emergency,” he finished calmly.  “As I gather from the fact that you didn’t call me ‘Sex Pal’.  Would this happen to be related to your inquiries about necromancy the other day?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...yeah,” Gideon said.  “Look, I know I’m asking an unreasonable amount here, but I’m in deep shit, or I will be when they find the bodies, and I need a place to lay low for--for a while.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not that we’re not willing, but you do realize that this is going to be the first place Judith and Marta come looking, right?” Camilla said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s right,” Palamedes agreed.  “It’d be much smarter for us to skip town altogether.  Fortunately, I already have a place in mind for us to go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon blinked.  “You do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An… acquaintance.  She lives nearby--the next town over--and she’s every bit as interested in necromancy research as I am.  More, in some ways.”  A smile played over Palamedes’ lips.  “I expect she’ll be only too happy to put us up in exchange for the prospect of information.  And I doubt anybody will think to look for us there, so we’ll be at our leisure to figure out our next move.  Not to mention, I’d be </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> interested in getting to know your friend here.”  He stepped forward, offering a hand to Harrow.  “Palamedes Sextus.  At your service.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow, who had been absorbed in examining their surroundings, suddenly snapped her attention onto him, hackles raising.  “It’s all right,” Gideon said.  “He’s trustworthy.”  Harrow looked like she intended to keep her own counsel on who she thought was trustworthy, and Palamedes wisely lowered his hand and backed away under the heat of her glower.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If we’re going to go,” Camilla said, “we should go </span>
  <em>
    <span>now.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was right.  The four of them sprang into motion as Palamedes and Camilla gathered up to go on the lam, Palamedes sweeping upstairs into his study and returning with an unsteady stack of books tall enough to make Harrow stare, Camilla heading down to the basement and reappearing with an overnight bag slung over her shoulder.  Within minutes, they were on the road, Palamedes and Camilla leading the way in their car, and Gideon and Harrow trailing behind on the bike.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't *mean* to write so much domestic fluff between Gideon and Harrow, it just keeps happening.  I suppose it balances out the incredible violence in this chapter a bit.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Wherever Gideon had expected Palamedes to lead them, it certainly wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His car had pulled up in front of one of the most impressively tacky McMansions that she had ever laid eyes on--which wasn’t exactly a </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge</span>
  </em>
  <span> sample size, admittedly, but still.  It was a sprawling mess of a thing, windows in a dizzying variety of styles peering down on them, attachments bulging out to the sides like architectural tumors, and let’s not forget arches--arches everywhere, arches for days, arches seemingly just for the hell of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t a whole lot of room for error in the situation at hand, but even so, as she dismounted her bike Gideon couldn’t help but ask, “You’re sure this is the right place?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Palamedes chuckled.  “Oh yes, positive.  Don’t worry, it’ll all make sense when we talk to the lady of the house.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They straggled up to the door in a line, Palamedes followed by Camilla followed somewhat dubiously by Gideon followed </span>
  <em>
    <span>extra</span>
  </em>
  <span> dubiously by Harrow.  Palamedes rang the bell--it took the form of chimes ringing out an elegant little tune, which just </span>
  <em>
    <span>figured--</span>
  </em>
  <span>and after a minute of breathless waiting, the door swung open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon, again, hadn’t quite been sure what she’d been expecting, though it had vaguely involved somebody dressed in one of those frouffy Victorian nightdresses, or maybe a full-blown ballgown.  What she got instead was an absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>statue</span>
  </em>
  <span> of a woman, as tall as Palamedes but without the part where he looked like he’d been stretched out by a taffy puller, a mane of golden hair cascading down her back, dressed somewhat incongruously in a light violet tank top and jean shorts that cut off around mid-thigh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon felt her cheeks heat, a sure sign that her face was already turning bright red and </span>
  <em>
    <span>goddammit why was she like this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Palamedes!” the woman said, surprised.  “What brings you out here today with… uh…”  Her eyes roved over Camilla, Gideon, and Harrow, evident confusion mounting with each individual.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s too long of a story for your doorstep,” Palamedes said, “but the short version is that we’ve stumbled upon some information regarding our mutual investigation with accompanying… complications… and could use a place to stay out of sight while we sort out what it all means.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The confused look vanished from the woman’s face, replaced by a hungry gleam in her eye.  “I’ll open up the garage,” she said.  “Get your vehicles in there so nobody spots them sitting out in my driveway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Coronabeth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still unsure of what exactly was going on but reassured that Palamedes had apparently known what he was doing, Gideon turned to go fetch her bike--and stopped short at the look on Harrow’s face.  She was staring at the woman--Coronabeth, apparently--not with the naked hostility that she usually showed to strangers, but with wide-eyed shock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harrow?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the sound of her name, Harrow flinched slightly, startled out of whatever reverie she’d been in.  “It’s nothing,” she said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Obviously untrue, but that was something to confront once they were inside and out of sight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon wheeled her bike in behind Camilla in her and Palamedes’ car.  The garage was so large as to be cavernous, with plenty of room to fit both vehicles alongside its preexisting occupant.  This was, unsurprisingly, a fancy sports car of the type that rich people loved to own in order to show off, although Gideon couldn’t help but note that it hadn’t been kept to the degree of glossy spotlessness that most of the bourgeoisie seemed to favor; it wasn’t in </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span> shape by any means, but there were distinct patches of caked-on dust and dirt that Coronabeth or whoever else hadn’t bothered to clean off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The garage door closed behind them, and they made their way into the house itself.  Coronabeth and Palamedes were in a sitting room that was about the size of Gideon’s front room, dining room, and kitchen all added together, conversing in hushed tones.  In the middle of the room was a substantial coffee table upon which a variety of light snacks had materialized, as though Coronabeth were entertaining guests rather than harboring fugitives.  “So,” she said, turning to address Gideon and Harrow as they entered with Camilla.  “Palamedes tells me that the two of you are on the run from some rather shady characters?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep, that’s right.”  In spite of herself, Gideon helped herself to a few crackers and slices of sausage from the table; Harrow watched her intently and then grabbed the exact same snacks that she had grabbed.  “These two spooks turned up at my house, and--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Actually,” Palamedes interrupted, “since Camilla and I haven’t been filled in either--why don’t you start from the beginning?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The beginning…” Gideon repeated to herself.  Right.  She popped a cracker and sausage combo into her mouth, chewed it thoughtfully, and swallowed it down.  “I guess it started when I heard a noise outside my house and came out to find this one--” she indicated Harrow, who was chewing her own sausage and cracker with a bemused expression “--digging through my trash.  I figured there was something up with her, so I let her sleep on my couch.  But then a couple of days later those spooks in white showed up at the diner, looking for her--Cam, you said that they’d talked to you too?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Camilla nodded.  “They flashed that photo of her at just about everybody in town, from what I hear.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wonderful.”  Gideon sighed heavily.  “Anyway, I guess I didn’t do the greatest job lying to them, because this morning they showed up demanding to search my house.  I told them to to fuck off, and the pale one did something to the other one, drained some kind of energy to make himself stronger or something?  Anyway, he started beating my ass, but then Harrow stepped in and kind of, um,” she winced delicately, “killed both of them, so we took off for Cam and Sex Pal’s place, and then they brought us here, and… yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s a fascinating story,” Coronabeth said, “but… I’m confused.  You’re saying that </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> managed to kill somebody that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> were helpless against?”  She inclined her head at Harrow, who in fairness was easily a full head shorter than Gideon and as scrawny as anybody.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to make an educated guess and say this has something to do with why you were asking me about animated bone,” Palamedes said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Er… yeah,” Gideon admitted.  “Harrow can kind of… do stuff with bones.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And how’d you find that out?” Camilla asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The night I found her digging through my trash, she kind of… buried me in skeletons until I managed to talk her down.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Camilla’s eyebrows lifted.  “...and your response to this was to let her sleep on your couch?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m not going to be an asshole to somebody just because they can make bones change shape and move around.  I’m not a… whatever the hell kind of ‘-ist’ that would be.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Coronabeth was staring with redoubled intensity at Harrow, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable under her gaze.  “So your going theory is that she has something to do with the lab?” Coronabeth asked Palamedes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The pieces fit,” he replied.  “I was already considering pulling you in on this based on the spooks and Gideon’s sudden interest in necromancy.  Suffice it to say, my hand was forced on the matter.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Gideon said.  “You don’t get to grill me for details and then go off into your own little cryptic side conversation, here.  What’s this about a lab?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Palamedes and Coronabeth traded a look.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The</span>
  </em>
  <span> lab,” Coronabeth said.  “Definite article.  It’s got a name, but that’s just some boring, mealy-mouthed nonsense to make it sound forgettable, so for us it’s just ‘the lab.’”  She leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees.  “You know Drearburh, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Drearburh…?”  Of course Gideon knew the name, but…  “It’s been a total ghost town ever since the gas leak.  I didn’t think there was anything out there anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The lab is on the outskirts,” Palamedes said.  “Or was, back when there was a town to be on the outskirts of.  Still up and running, in spite of everything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon worried slowly at her bottom lip with her teeth, thinking.  “Cam said you’d found places in the area that were looking into the same occult stuff as you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“A</span>
  </em>
  <span> place.”  Palamedes inclined his head.  “Yes, my interest in the occult led me to the lab.  In my naivete, I approached them as a fellow scholar, confident that I had something to offer them.  They evidently disagreed, given the vehemence with which they slammed the door in my face.  Figuratively.  And literally, come to think of it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That seems weird,” Gideon said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought so too, which is why I began digging for more information on them--discreetly, given their demonstrated propensity for keeping their cards close to their chest.  I made very little headway until my investigations led me to cross paths with Miss Tridentarius here, who probably knows more about that lab than anybody save the people who work there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, stop,” Coronabeth said, unable to keep herself from looking a little pleased.  “You’re building me up too much.  I’ve been keeping tabs on them for a long time, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh.”  Gideon narrowed her eyes at her.  “And what, exactly, is </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> interest in the lab?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”  Coronabeth’s face fell so heavily that Gideon experienced a mad, momentary urge to bundle her up in her lap and tell her that everything was going to be okay.  “That’s… years ago, someone I cared about got wrapped up in their business.  I don’t know how, or why, just that when the dust had settled, she was gone.  I guess all this time I’ve been hoping that I’d be able to find her again, or at least get answers about what happened to her.”  She smiled a slight smile that didn’t reach her eyes.  “My… sister.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ianthe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow had been so quiet until now that Gideon had almost managed to forget that she was still in the room.  Gideon started despite how soft Harrow’s voice had been, but this was nothing compared to Coronabeth’s reaction.  An initial stunned stupor shattered as she rose from the couch and surged for Harrow, who went fumbling backwards away from her; Gideon shot up and planted herself between the two, bracing for an impact that confirmed that, yup, Coronabeth </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a bit of muscle on her.  “How do you know her name?!” Coronabeth said, pushing against Gideon more on principle than out of any actual desire to get past her.  “Do you know her?!  Do you know where she is?!  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tell me!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a sharp crunching-crackling sound that was a little too familiar to Gideon, and Coronabeth gasped.  Glancing backward, Gideon saw that a lattice of slender bone had sprouted from Harrow’s sleeves, forming a fractal surface in front of her with a series of spikes that jutted pointedly at them.  “Okay, easy,” Gideon said in Coronabeth’s ear, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“easy.”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Then, over her shoulder, she added, “Harrow, </span>
  <em>
    <span>chill.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  I’m not going to let anybody hurt you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a pregnant pause, and then the sound of crumbling as the bone lattice retracted back down to the bone chips Harrow kept in her sleeves.  Gideon attempted to gently guide Coronabeth back to where she had been sitting, but the other woman wouldn’t go.  “Please,” Coronabeth begged in a quavering voice that just about broke Gideon’s heart.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Please.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow’s reply, when it came, was quiet and dull.  “You’re not going to get her back.  She’s gone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Coronabeth sagged, and this time she didn’t resist as Gideon guided her back to the couch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Palamedes gingerly cleared his throat.  “We’ve all been dealing with some… considerable excitement today,” he said.  “Perhaps it would be best if the four of us went upstairs and settled in…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes…” Coronabeth said, nearly inaudible.  “Yes, that would probably be best.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One excruciatingly awkward trip upstairs later, Gideon found herself facing a neat little guest bedroom.  ‘Guest’ bedroom was underselling it a bit; it was as large or larger than Gideon’s master bedroom back home, tastefully furnished, complete with attached private bathroom.  Only one detail was marring the picture, albeit a particularly thorny one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only one bed,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gideon sighed to herself.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why is it always only one bed?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead and take it,” she said aloud, gesturing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow, beside her, looked startled.  “But… where will you sleep?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a low, thoughtful </span>
  <em>
    <span>“hmmmmmm,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gideon stepped forward, plucked a single pillow from the frankly excessive amount stacked on the end of the bed, dropped it to the floor, then turned and flopped down.  “I’m used to sleeping wherever I can,” she said, which was true enough, given the number of odd places Aiglamene had found her curled up over the years.  “This’ll be just fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow looked thoroughly skeptical of that, but she clambered onto the bed, making a slight noise of bewilderment as the mattress and layers of plushy blankets sagged beneath her weight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon stared up at the ceiling for what might have been a few minutes or a few hours.  Sleep wasn’t in the offing, and not just because the midday sun was still streaming in the window.  Her body was as tired as it had ever been, not to mention still sore from where that Silas guy had beaten her up.  Her mind, though--</span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was wide awake, turning in restless circles, taking the bits and pieces that she’d just been handed and putting them together with the ones she’d already had.  As it had constantly been since Harrow had come into her life, each new answer just brought up a fresh set of questions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, still staring at the ceiling, she said, “Harrow?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t sure if Harrow had managed to fall asleep, but the other woman promptly replied, “Yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it…”  Gideon licked her lips, considering her words, as though there were any chance of making the question less blunt.  “Is it true?  What they were saying down there, I mean.  Did you… come out of that lab?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a long pause.  Finally, Harrow answered, “Yes.  Unless there’s another lab nearby that nobody’s mentioned.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fair enough.  “This…”  Gideon hesitated again on the verge of the question before pushing forward with it.  “This is your first time being outside the lab, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another long pause.  “Is it that obvious?” Harrow said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A little bit, yeah,” Gideon said, then added, “sorry,” because it seemed like she should say it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow didn’t acknowledge the apology.  “I was raised there,” she said.  “Born there, as far as I know.  I was taught a little bit about the outside world--enough to get by if and when they decided to deploy me--but they never let me leave.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And the bone stuff you can do… they taught you that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This silence was as long as the two preceding ones combined.  “They… did things to me,” Harrow said, slowly, softly.  “Things that brought me in tune with necromantic energies, let me sense and manipulate them easier than normal adepts.  I can do things with bone that can’t be achieved with mere study.  I’m no mere practitioner… I’m a walking weapon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” said Gideon, and then, because this was a thoroughly insufficient response, “that’s really shitty.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought so too,” said Harrow.  “That’s why I ran.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was nothing more that could really be said to that, and so Gideon said nothing.  A few moments later, though, the quiet was suddenly broken by the rustling of bedsheets, and Harrow appeared over the edge of the bed, daintily lifting her feet up and over and lowering herself down off of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harrow, what--?” Gideon said, lifting her head slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The bed’s too soft,” Harrow replied, laying herself down on the floor.  “I like it better down here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon didn’t reply.  Nor did she say anything when Harrow softly wormed her way up beneath her outstretched arm, curling herself up against Gideon with her head resting in the nook of her shoulder.  The two of them lay there in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In spite of everything, sleep must have come in the end, because suddenly Gideon was blearily blinking her eyes open, the light from the window having shifted enough to indicate some passage of time.  Harrow was still in the same place, and all at once Gideon found she was acutely aware of the smaller woman’s presence against her side, not least because of the small puddle of drool that was oozing from Harrow’s mouth onto Gideon’s shirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gingerly, Gideon extracted herself.  Harrow stirred as her living pillow pulled itself out from under her, making a small noise.  “Shhh,” Gideon said.  “Just getting up to find some water.  Stay there and rest.”  Harrow made another noise that might have been acknowledgement or might have been her mumbling in her sleep and rolled onto her back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon closed the door quietly behind her and made her way down the staircase (which looked like one of those over-fancy ones women in gorgeous ballgowns were always coming down in movies).  Whatever ‘settling in’ had meant for Camilla and Palamedes, it apparently hadn’t included napping for as long as Gideon and Harrow had, because they were in the sitting room watching an absurdly large television.  Coronabeth was with them, looking, if not completely better, then at least like she’d managed to pack most of her emotional distress back into whatever deep dark hole in her heart she kept it in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Palamedes said, glancing over as she entered.  “...this is rather unfortunate timing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck are you--?”  Gideon was stopped in the middle of asking him what the fuck he was on about by the realization that her own face was staring back at her from the television screen, followed by the far more unpleasant realization that it was accompanied by the caption ‘WANTED FOR QUESTIONING’.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It would seem,” Camilla said, looking as apologetic as she ever did, “that they’ve found the bodies.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was only a matter of time,” Gideon replied with more nonchalance than she was feeling.  Aiglamene must have called Judith and Marta when she didn’t show up for her shift at the diner, and they must have found the corpses of the two spooks in her front yard when they rolled up to investigate.  Goddamn maternal instincts.  “What about the two of you?  Like you said, they’re probably going to check your place first, and when they find you’ve vanished too--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aiding and abetting?”  Palamedes let a sigh out through his nose.  “Yes… most likely.  But we’ll deal with that as it comes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We know you, Gideon,” Camilla added.  “You’re an idiot, but you’re compulsively heroic.  If you’re willing to go this far, then we trust that it’s because you’re doing the right thing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, I think,” Gideon said, frowning at the television screen.  Then, “I’ve gotta scope this place out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A beat of silence.  “I’m… sorry?” Palamedes asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The lab,” Gideon said.  “I want to go scope it out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More silence.  “The lab,” Camilla repeated.  “The lab we were talking about earlier.  The one that we think is performing horrifying occult experiments.  The one that sicced those white-suited spooks on you that nearly killed you.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> lab?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You want to… go scope it out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yup.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corona, who didn’t know any better, asked, “Are you out of your </span>
  <em>
    <span>mind?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Palamedes, who did, simply replied, “She’s Gideon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon huffed out a breath of frustration through her nose.  “Look, I know that it doesn’t sound very smart.  That it probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> very smart.  But we all agree that that lab is our best lead for figuring out what the hell is going on here, right?”  Hesitant, begrudging nods from the other three.  “Then we’re going to have to deal with it sooner or later, and I prefer sooner.  I want to know what the hell I’m dealing with here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s a terrible idea,” a voice said from behind her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon turned.  Harrow had appeared in the hallway, looking slightly rumpled.  “We literally just acknowledged that,” Gideon said.  “I was explaining why I’m going anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow’s hand drifted, almost of its own accord, across her body to her other arm; the fabric of her sleeve bunched as she gripped it.  “You have no idea what you’re dealing with here,” she said.  “You think you do, but you don’t.  Take whatever it is you’re thinking, and make it much, </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> worse.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.  Well.”  Gideon looked at the other three, who didn’t seem to know what to say to that either.  “Be that as it may, we’ve officially passed the point of there being an easy way out of this, so… I’m going anyway.  Sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow’s hand gripped tighter for a moment, then released and fell back to her side.  “Then I’m going with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?!” Gideon said.  “No, you’re not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow fixed her with a stubborn, glowering look.  “How, exactly, do you propose to stop me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon ran the calculus in her head and found, to her irritation, that Harrow had a very good point there.  “I… okay.  Fine,” she said.  “You and me, on my bike, tomorrow morning.  We head out there, we have a look around, quietly.  See if there’s anything to find.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And if we run into something, and I tell you that you’re in danger and you need to run…”  Harrow was gazing at her steadily.  “You promise to run?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only if you promise to be running with me,” Gideon replied, crossing her arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re sure you don’t want backup?” Camilla asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon shook her head.  “Thanks, but no.  Two people and my bike is going to be plenty as-is.  It’s just going to get messier if more people are involved.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh.”  Palamedes had his hand at his chin.  “You know, when you talk like that, Gideon… you almost make this sound like a plan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Or, you know, something that could </span>
  <em>
    <span>become</span>
  </em>
  <span> a plan,” Coronabeth put in.  “With time.  And attention.  A little watering.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you squint,” Camilla added.  “And tilt your head a bit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Gideon said.  “That’s right, that’s what we’ve got here: a bona fide Gideon Nav seed-of-a-plan.”  And she grinned, hard enough that she could almost ignore the pit of fear that had formed in her stomach.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello everybody!  It's been a minute, hasn't it?  Suffice it to say that there's been... a lot going on the last few weeks, but the chapter came together in the end, and the plot only continues to thicken.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The roar of Gideon’s bike echoed oddly in the silence.  It wasn’t that she was used to it getting swallowed up by other noises--with the exception of the interstate, this wasn’t exactly a high-traffic area, and it wasn’t uncommon for her to be the only vehicle on the road for minutes at a time.  It was just that there was something so much more, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span> about the silence passing through Drearburh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dilapidated houses, worn down with more than two decades of utter neglect, rose up on either side as she rumbled over the cracked pavement.  Gideon bit her lip and set her shoulders to keep from shuddering.  The leak had happened when she had just been an infant, and so she’d grown up hearing about it as it had slowly wormed its way into local legend.  One evening, everybody in the town had gone to bed as usual, and none of them had woken up the next morning, victims of a silent and invisible killer that had swept through overnight.  About two hundred souls, give or take, had been lost that night.  With the residents gone, nobody had much of a reason to care about the tiny town, and so it had been left to become a ghost town in just about every possible sense.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Add to that the fact that, according to Aiglamene, Gideon had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>from</span>
  </em>
  <span> here before her parents bit it and could easily have been one of the dead if they hadn’t--well, she’d never admitted it out loud, but Drearburh </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> creeped her out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her thoughts were interrupted by the sensation of Harrow, who was seated behind her, tugging at her waist.  Gideon cut the engine and let the bike coast to a smooth halt at the side of the empty, neglected street.  “What’s up?” she asked, craning around to look at her passenger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re getting close.”  Harrow’s gaze was fixed intently on the horizon line, which rose gently up into a small hill some distance away.  “Too much closer and they’ll hear the motorcycle.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All right, hoofing it then.”  Gideon kicked down the bike’s kickstand and dismounted with careless ease.  She stuck a hand out behind her as an offer to Harrow, who to her surprise accepted it with only a minimal moment of hesitation.  Together they struck out along the curb, following the road as the residential area slowly thinned out, giving way to aging structures that looked like they hadn’t been well-kept-up even in the days when the town had been inhabited, and then to wild, untamed fields of grass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The lab’s just over this and down the road a little way,” Harrow said as they approached the foot of the hill.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Gideon said.  “Okay, follow my lead.”  She began to hike up the slope of the hill and, as she approached its crest, eased herself down to the ground until she was laying flat, then began to army-crawl forward.  Rustling in the grass behind her indicated that Harrow was copying her movements.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lab was clearly visible from the top of the hill, a squat, blocky building some distance away, near the edge of the treeline where the clearcutting had apparently been deemed no longer worth it.  As Harrow pulled up alongside her, Gideon fished a pair of binoculars out of a fanny pack--both of which had come from Coronabeth, who had a truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>staggering</span>
  </em>
  <span> amount of random crap in her mansion--and trained them on the building, lips pursed in concentration as she focused the lenses.  “Damn,” she muttered.  The lab clearly took its security seriously--its perimeter was surrounded by a chain-link fence a full story and a half tall, with barbed wire looped around the top to deter any ambitious would-be scalers.  Access was controlled by a single sliding gate, which appeared to be operated by a manned booth, and Gideon spotted armed guards patrolling the interior as well--only a handful, but she had a feeling that it was capable of mustering far more at a moment’s notice.  “How the hell did you ever manage to escape from </span>
  <em>
    <span>this?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Determination,” Harrow replied tonelessly.  “And more than a little luck.”  As Gideon swept her binoculars along the length of the fence, she noticed that one section seemed to have been repaired recently, a stitched-together vertical gash that ran from the ground nearly all the way up to the top.  Right.  The lab might have hardcore security, but Harrow was, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harrow.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you actually getting anything useful out of this?” Harrow asked, her voice making it clear exactly what she thought of the idea of being this close to the lab in general.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Working on it,” Gideon replied.  “Just… getting a picture of what I’m dealing with here.”  Backup or no, the number of guards they had on patrol didn’t seem to be sufficient to cover the area they were supposed to be watching.  She was pretty sure that with a pair of bolt cutters and a bit of moxie, she’d be able to get through the fence and to the lab unseen.  Not that she knew what she’d do once she got there, but still, the fact that their security wasn’t completely flawless was oddly encouraging.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gideon,” Harrow said, voice beginning to tighten.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know, I know,” Gideon said.  “Just… give me a couple of minutes here, I want to see if I can figure out anything useful about--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a loud, wet cough from behind them, and Gideon leaped about a foot in the air as she spun around to see the last person she had expected to lay eyes on here.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was wondering if I was going to find you sniffing around,” said Dulcinea.  “You didn’t strike me as the type to just lay low and stay hidden.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon’s mouth worked uselessly for several seconds before she was finally able to cobble together a coherent question.  “Wh… what the hell are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing here?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Gideon.”  Dulcinea smiled a sad, pitying smile.  “I daresay you can add up the answer to that yourself, if you just think for a moment.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t--”  Gideon glanced backwards over her shoulder and stopped mid-statement as she was distracted by the expression on Harrow’s face.  It was similar to the look she’d gotten when she had first seen Coronabeth, but where that one had mostly been surprise and confusion, this one plunged into sheer fear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cytherea,” she said in a small voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello, little sister,” Dulcinea replied warmly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As had been suggested moments ago, it wasn’t very hard to add the situation up.  Gideon shoved herself to her feet and stepped in front of Harrow, raising her fists in a ready stance.  “You stay away from her,” she growled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gideon, don’t--” Harrow said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dulcinea-Cytherea-whoever-the-hell simply let out a small, tinkling laugh.  “So very gallant,” she said.  “So rare these days, to find someone willing to stick their neck out to protect a complete stranger.  You’re very lucky, little sister.”  She raised a placating hand.  “Never fear, Gideon Nav.  I’ve no intention of harming her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dragging her back into that </span>
  <em>
    <span>place</span>
  </em>
  <span> counts as harm in my book,” Gideon snarled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”  The woman inclined her head.  “I’ve no intention of doing that, either.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I’m supposed to take your word for it because…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because, to be frank, if I wanted to take her, I’d simply incapacitate you and be done with it.”  Cytherea sighed.  “You’re developing a bad habit of trying to punch above your weight.  You fought against Agent Silas, I understand?  His abilities were </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> compared to what I’m capable of.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s telling the truth,” Harrow said.  “Gideon, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cytherea stepped forward, and it was her attitude as much as anything else that startled Gideon out of her belligerence.  Here was a tiny, slight woman, not much bigger than Harrow and seemingly deathly ill to boot, striding towards Gideon without even the vaguest semblance of caution, ignoring her advantages in size and build and… just about everything, really.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In a sane world, the good money would’ve been on Gideon in that matchup.  But the world hadn’t been sane for a few days, now, and Gideon had the sense that if this Cytherea person wasn’t afraid of her, it was probably because she didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be afraid.  She lowered her fists.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Much better,” Cytherea said, beaming like a kindergarten teacher at a particularly bright pupil.  “It’s all right, Gideon, I just want to speak with my little sister.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon cast a glance backward at Harrow.  She wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span> by any stretch of the imagination--in fact she looked like a stray cat that had suddenly been caught in a floodlight--but she’d made no indication that she wanted Gideon to stop Cytherea, the contrary if anything.  Grudgingly, Gideon stepped aside, angling herself to keep an eye on the pair of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How have you been, Harrow?” Cytherea asked, approaching.  “I understand why you chose to run, but… I must admit, I’ve been a bit worried the last few days, thinking of you trying to survive all on your own out here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“F-fine,” Harrow replied in a voice so tiny it was barely audible.  “That is--it was hard the first day when I had nowhere to go, but…”  Her eyes flicked briefly over to Gideon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The gesture wasn’t lost on Cytherea.  “She’s been taking good care of you, then.  I’m glad to hear it.  Gideon Nav appears to be an absolute gem of a human being.”  The gaze she turned on Gideon was approving, but also strangely </span>
  <em>
    <span>appraising,</span>
  </em>
  <span> her eyes running up and down her as though she were attempting to puzzle something out.  “Well.  If that’s the way it is, I’d recommend that the two of you run along and get back to wherever it is that you’re hiding out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow’s head snapped up sharply.  “You’re not taking me back?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I said I had no intention of that, didn’t I?  I endeavor to be a woman of my word… a few white lies, excepted, of course.”  Cytherea shot a mischievous look at Gideon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon’s jaw clenched, but when she opened her mouth, it was simply to ask, “Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Cytherea repeated, looking faintly amused.  “My dear Gideon, are you familiar with the expression ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth’?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and it’s bullshit,” Gideon replied.  “If some asshole’s trying to dump a horse on me that’s too old or sick to be useful, I want to know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This drew a full-throated laugh from Cytherea.  “Well, as much as I hate to disappoint you,” she said, “it would take too long for me to explain my motivations, and longer still to convince you that they’re genuine.  It was reckless enough of you to come out here at all, and it’d be more reckless still to linger for too long.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine.”  Gideon tromped forward, heading past Cytherea back the way they had come.  After a moment’s hesitation, Harrow trailed mutely behind her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’d only gone a few strides past Cytherea when they were stopped again by the sound of her voice.  “Harrow?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both turned back towards her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To be clear, I’m the only one you can expect this mercy from,” Cytherea said.  “The others--and I don’t mean more agents, I mean the </span>
  <em>
    <span>others--</span>
  </em>
  <span>they’ll be coming after you.  Do you understand?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow’s head drooped and her shoulders sagged; Gideon could see that she’d begun to tremble slightly.  “Yes…” she said dully.  “Yes, I… understand.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon had about a million questions, but she held them in as they walked in silence back to the bike, then roared away back down the road, leaving Drearburh in their dust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that adds up with what I’ve observed,” Coronabeth said.  The five of them were seated around a large wooden dining table--which Gideon suspected was genuinely made out of oak or cherry or one of those fancy woods--with Gideon filling the others in on the results of her and Harrow’s excursion.  “Big, intimidating fence, armed guards, generally unpleasant atmosphere--it’s really not the sort of place that’s interested in appealing to visitors.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, they might look tough, but they’re just fronting,” Gideon said.  “There weren’t nearly enough guards on patrol for the perimeter they had to cover.  They’ve gotten careless.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To her right, Harrow mumbled something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Gideon asked, looking at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think she said </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘they can afford to be’,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Camilla said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All eyes were on Harrow now, who was looking like she deeply regretted speaking up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The external security, it’s… just a formality,” she said.  “Anybody who got through it would have to face what’s inside the lab.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You mean more spooks like that guy who thrashed me?” Gideon asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow shook her head.  “No.  I mean, yes.  But also… worse than that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...more specimens like yourself?” Palamedes asked, pushing his glasses up with one finger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow was avoiding their gazes, staring blankly down at the tabletop.  Her voice was a ragged murmur as she simply said, “Worse.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon pictured Harrow slaughtering the two spooks who had attacked them, the gigantic gash she’d torn in the lab’s chain-link fence during her escape.  Then she tried to picture something </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> terrifying than that.  She didn’t like what she was getting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Palamedes hummed, settling back in his seat.  “Harrow, you said you lived in the lab your entire life before your escape, yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...as far as I can remember, yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you’ve had your powers for that entire time?  As far as you can remember.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you getting at, Sex Pal?” Gideon asked, frowning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just speculating,” he said, steepling his fingers in front of him.  “If Harrow was--experimented on--before she was old enough to remember, then that would have been a good two decades ago.  What, then, has the lab been up to since then?”  His eyes flicked around the table, looking at each of them in turn.  “What if she was merely the prototype for something… well, worse?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow’s lips pursed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So we’re back to secret occult supersoldier territory, then?” Gideon asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In a broad sense,” Palamedes agreed.  “If Harrow isn’t willing to share what she knows of the lab’s secrets--and I have no intention of pressing her,” he added quickly, seeing Gideon’s reaction, “then the only way to know what we’re dealing with would be to have a peek for ourselves.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hypothetically,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Camilla said, levelling a withering look at him.  “Before we start throwing together plans to go charging into the den of secret occult supersoldiers, I feel that I should remind everybody that our primary concern is finding a way to get them off our backs.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Easier said than done,” Coronabeth said.  “I’ve been trying to figure out who’s pulling the strings there for </span>
  <em>
    <span>years,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and all I can tell you is that whoever it is has enough clout to ensure that every lead goes to a dead end.  Records redacted and erased, investigations suddenly closed without explanation, witnesses intimidated into silence or, in the worst cases, disappeared entirely…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon glanced sidelong at Harrow, who had returned to staring at the tabletop with redoubled intensity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So… some kind of government operation, then?” Camilla said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A strong possibility,” Palamedes said.  “But we can’t rule out one of the more powerful corporate entities.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re assholes with money, power, and a shocking disregard for scientific ethics,” Gideon said.  “What do the specifics matter?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They could end up mattering quite a bit, if we’re getting out of this with our skins intact,” Camilla shot back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Palamedes bumped his glasses up to allow himself to place both hands over his eyes and drag them slowly down his face.  “Okay.  This conversation is rapidly becoming unproductive.  We have the luxury of time for as long as our adversaries remain ignorant of where we’re hiding out, so might I suggest that we break for the evening, try to get some rest, and reconvene later?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The merit of the suggestion was generally recognized, and the occupants of the table slowly began to clear off.  Rising from her seat, Gideon paused; Harrow was still in her chair, staring into space, arms in a position that was half folded and half her hugging herself.  “Harrow?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Harrow replied.  “I just… need to think.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Gideon headed out towards the stairs to their room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon’s eyes snapped open.  For a moment, she was too disoriented to identify what had woken her up, and then she realized: it hadn’t been any sensation, but rather the </span>
  <em>
    <span>absence</span>
  </em>
  <span> of a sensation, namely the warmth and pressure of Harrow curled up against her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sat bolt upright, blinking in the darkness, trying to get her brain together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shit, was that the sound of footsteps pattering down the stairs?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh shit, that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> the sound of the front door opening and closing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon surged to her feet, barely even conscious of anything except overwhelming panic as she burst out of the guest room, took the stairs three at a time, and careened out the front door.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Harrow!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she called into the night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A small, silhouetted figure several yards away stiffened at the sound of her name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harrow,” Gideon said again, hesitating to ask the question because she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like the answer.  “Harrow, what are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow didn’t turn to look back at her; her voice, when it came, was quiet but steady.  “I’m leaving.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like hell you are.  Harrow, c’mon--”  Gideon began to move toward her, but a loop of something hard and unyielding wrapped around her ankle, and she toppled face-first to the ground.  By the time she’d gotten over being momentarily stunned from the impact, more bone restraints were beginning to work their way around her limbs and torso, an odd repeat of the night the two of them had met.  “Harrow, </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop it!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You</span>
  </em>
  <span> stop,” Harrow snapped back.  Any reply Gideon might’ve had was eaten up by a grunt as one of her arms was wrenched around into a position that denied her leverage against the encroaching bone.  “Why,” Harrow continued, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“why</span>
  </em>
  <span> do you continue to insist on throwing your life away for </span>
  <em>
    <span>me?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Do you even </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> what I am?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>care</span>
  </em>
  <span> what you are!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You should!”  Harrow whirled around, moonlight glinting off of the two solitary teardrops that were making their way down her cheeks.  “I’m a </span>
  <em>
    <span>freak,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gideon.  I’m worse than a freak, I’m a </span>
  <em>
    <span>monster.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon clenched her teeth and pushed against the restraints, but it was a battle that she was losing, and badly.  “You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a monster, Harrow,” she gritted out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t I?  Tell that to the people who lived in Drearburh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That startled Gideon enough that she stopped struggling.  “What do you mean?” she asked slowly.  “What the hell do they have to do with it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to ignore the truth when it’s right in front of you?  Or did you think that it was just a coincidence that the entire town got wiped out overnight when the lab was </span>
  <em>
    <span>right there?”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Harrow’s face contorted.  “I told you that they did things to me, to give me my abilities.  Didn’t you stop to wonder what those </span>
  <em>
    <span>things</span>
  </em>
  <span> were?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon’s blood ran cold.  “You don’t mean--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Two hundred,” Harrow intoned in a colorless voice.  “Two hundred dead, so that I could be what I am.  I’m a walking act of mass murder, Gideon.  I’m a living testament to hubris and sin.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon’s heart was thudding dully in her chest.  It was all she could do to find her voice.  “Harrow, that’s--I mean, that’s horrible, it really is, but it’s not your </span>
  <em>
    <span>fault--”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe not,” Harrow said.  “Even if it is, there’s nothing I can do to change it at this point.  So I’m going to make sure that I change what I can--save the lives that I can still save.”  She turned her back once more.  “Goodbye, Gideon.  And… thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” Gideon called as she began to walk away.  “Harrow, wait.  If you--if you really think that leaving is for the best then--fine.  That’s your decision.  Just please, please tell me you’re not planning on going back to the lab.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow didn’t reply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harrow, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s the only…” Harrow began softly.  “Anywhere else I go, I’ll be putting the people around me in danger.  This way… at least I know that nobody else is going to get hurt.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you fucking--?!”  Gideon resumed her struggling with redoubled fury, but the bone bindings were holding fast.  “Harrow!  God </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn </span>
  </em>
  <span>it fucking piece of--</span>
  <em>
    <span>Harrow!”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  But Harrow no longer paid her cries any mind.  Gideon called after her until her tiny figure had receded into the distance, and continued to yell herself hoarse long after.  When at last it felt like even one more shout would shred the lining of her throat, she simply laid her head down and sobbed uncontrollably into the dirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bright light was piercing her eyelids, and somebody was tugging at her.  Gideon mumbled in protest and tried to pull away, but something prevented her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Easy,” Camilla’s voice murmured at her side.  “I’m just getting these off you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Consciousness trickled back in as the bindings gave way with a series of sharp </span>
  <em>
    <span>snaps,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and when memory of the previous night had returned in full, Gideon could only fervently wish it hadn’t.  Lifting a face smudged with dirt and dried tears, she croaked, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Harrow.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s gone, isn’t she?”  Palamedes’ voice said from behind her.  Camilla eased Gideon up into a sitting position--good </span>
  <em>
    <span>god,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she was stiff--and she saw that he was sitting on the front porch along with Coronabeth.  The morning sun had risen fairly high in the sky--she must’ve been passed out for a few hours, at least.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dropping her eyes so she could avoid the pitying stares of the people around her, Gideon mumbled, “She… thinks that it’ll be safer for all of us if she goes back to the lab.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, she’s not wrong about that,” Palamedes said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon glared balefully at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he said, raising his hands.  “Wrong time to point that out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’d be time to kick his ass later.  Gideon shoved herself to her feet and took an unsteady step towards the road, only for a pair of arms to wrap themselves around her, holding her back.  “Whoa, now,” Camilla said.  “Where do you think you’re going?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where else?” Gideon spat.  “I’m going to get Harrow back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  You just spent half the night facedown in the dirt and you can barely stand up.  Before anything else happens, you are going to take a shower and we are going to get some food and water into you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Cam--”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And then,” Camilla continued relentlessly, “we are going to put our heads together and figure out how we’re going to get Harrow back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a long moment, Gideon stared helplessly down the road, as though doing so hard enough would undo the events of last night and bring Harrow walking back to the house.  When this failed to materialize, she slumped her shoulders in defeat.  “Okay,” she said hoarsely.  Her hand clenched into a fist at her side.  “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whew.  At this rate, I should be done with this fic... roughly around the time Alecto comes out?  Anyway, I made myself sad writing this chapter so I hope that I'm making you all suffer with me &gt;:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Gideon tore down the road on her bike, followed close behind by the others in the car, which copied her maneuvers with a tight precision that only Camilla could’ve pulled off.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were almost to Drearburh.  Gideon’s hands tightened slightly on the handlebars, her palms sweaty.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is going to work,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she told herself sternly.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>We have a plan.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  A niggling, contrarian voice in the back of her head replied that they had maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>half</span>
  </em>
  <span> of a plan, one that gave them at best even odds of getting through the front gate, never mind whatever they would find in the lab itself.  Gideon chewed her lip, gunning the engine slightly as she worked to shove the doubts aside.  As Palamedes had pointed out in their impromptu planning session, they were unlikely to get enough information anytime soon to rise above the level of a desperate gamble.  And in the meantime, Harrow… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harrow--</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>--what</span>
  </em>
  <span> the hell was that up ahead?!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon jammed on her brakes and swiveled the body of her bike around sideways to force it to a halt.  Behind her, the car’s tires squealed as Cam braked to avoid hitting her.  In the middle of the road, somebody had set up a lawn chair complete with a parasol to ward off the rays of the sun.  That somebody was currently reclining indolently along the lawn chair’s length; namely, it was--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re finally here,” Cytherea said, setting aside what looked like a cheap paperback novel.  “I was wondering how long it would take you to arrive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon dismounted her bike and strode forward; she heard the car’s doors open behind her and gestured furiously for the others to stay where they were.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harrow seemed to think that you’d have the good sense to stay away once she returned to us,” Cytherea continued.  “But then, that’s Harrow for you.  Bless her, she means well, but she </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn’t have a good sense for people.  No, it was obvious to me that you were much more the type to--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The end of her thought was cut off by Gideon’s fist connecting squarely with her nose with a shark </span>
  <em>
    <span>crack,</span>
  </em>
  <span> hard enough to snap her head back and send her stumbling backwards a few steps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Gideon!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Coronabeth gasped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You manipulative </span>
  <em>
    <span>bitch,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gideon seethed, ignoring her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cythera regained her footing enough to steady herself, hand raised to, but not quite touching, her dislocated and bleeding nose.  “All right, I’ll let you have that one for free,” she said.  “I suppose you deserve it, after everything you’ve been through.”  Despite herself, Gideon couldn’t help but watch with queasy fascination as her nose shifted back into place of its own accord with a small </span>
  <em>
    <span>pop.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  “For the record, my intention with yesterday’s conversation was merely to warn her not to let her guard down; she seems to have taken my meaning quite differently.  I’ll accept responsibility for that, as I should’ve remembered that she has a penchant for being a bit… dramatic, that way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great,” Gideon said, in a tone that made clear that it wasn’t actually all that great.  “So where does that leave us now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cytherea smiled a coy smile that once would’ve made Gideon’s heart skip a beat, although now it just kind of pissed her off.  “Well, given that you’re here, I imagine you’re on your way to storm the castle and rescue the princess.  Am I right about that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”  Gideon’s knuckles popped as she clenched her fist.  “You intending to get in my way?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gideon, I’m hurt,” Cytherea said, looking very much like she sincerely meant it.  “Have I not made it clear what my position on this matter is?  I get the sense that you don’t really trust me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been lying to me since the moment we first met,” Gideon replied flatly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Strictly speaking, I didn’t lie to you.  I said that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>could call</span>
  </em>
  <span> me Dulcinea, not--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, spare me your bullshit excuses!” Gideon snapped, cutting her off.  “If you’re really on my side--on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harrow’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> side--then prove it by </span>
  <em>
    <span>getting the hell out of my way.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cytherea lifted an eyebrow.  “I’m certainly willing to do that, if that’s what you want, but would you not rather avail yourself of my assistance?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your--”  Gideon fumbled for words for a moment, trying to process what she was hearing.  “I’m sorry, are you trying to tell me that you’re offering to betray your bosses outright, here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trying to.  Having some trouble succeeding, by the looks of it.”  Cytherea’s eyes glittered mischievously for a moment before growing serious again.  “But my dear Gideon… before we agree to anything, I want to make sure you thoroughly understand what you’re getting into, here.  Even if you have my assistance, there are three others, more or less my equal in power, who will be trying to stop us.  Harrow’s only maybe half as strong, and that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>if</span>
  </em>
  <span> we can get to her and convince her to join our little rebellion.  We’ll be massively outclassed, no matter what.  At best, this is a hail mary.  At worst, it’s an outright suicide mission.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care,” Gideon said savagely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cytherea looked at her coolly.  “And if Harrow has to watch you die, after everything she gave up to keep you safe?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That tripped Gideon up enough that she fumbled over her words for a moment.  “Then I… I guess that I’ll just have to hope that she can find a way to forgive me, someday.  Because I know I’ll never forgive myself if I just leave her to rot in there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That sounds about right,” said Cytherea, beaming.  “Are we settled, then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“One sec.”  Gideon turned and jogged back to the car, where Camilla, Palamedes, and Coronabeth had been watching her talk to Cytherea with varying expressions of interest and bewilderment.  “Right, so,” Gideon said to them.  “Long story short, this weird lady is actually a secret occult supersoldier who works for the lab, only she’s offering to stab them in the back and help us out, and weird as it sounds, I think she’s on the level.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s the catch?” Camilla asked skeptically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well… the catch is that we’re going to have to get past three others just like her, so we’re still going to be majorly outgunned in there.”  Gideon sucked in a breath through her teeth.  “Basically, if anybody wants to bail with their skin intact, now’s the time.  I won’t hold it against you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And throw away what might be my only chance to find out what happened to my sister?” Coronabeth asked.  “Not a chance.  I’m in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Palamedes added.  “If I don’t solve this mystery, it’ll torment me for the rest of my life.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s the two most important people in my life going in there, then,” Camilla said.  “How can I back out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cool.”  Gideon grinned at all of them, and if it was a little bit watery, nobody commented on it.  “Thanks, guys.”  She waved Cytherea over to the car and then, as Cytherea was climbing into the backseat next to a slightly disconcerted Coronabeth, she said, “Hey, wait, so--what about you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cytherea looked up at her, brows furrowed.  “What about me, what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean.  We were just making sure that everybody’s up for this, despite the stakes.  What about you?  You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely</span>
  </em>
  <span> sure that you want to help us, even though it means throwing away everything?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cytherea looked slightly taken aback.  “That’s… incredibly sweet of you to ask, Gideon, but yes, I’m absolutely sure.  I--”  She dropped into a sudden hacking cough that made everybody else startle, smiling ruefully to herself once she’d finished.  “It’s a bit ironic, how I only managed to make my peace with dying once I’d become mostly unable to.  But yes.  I should’ve done something like this a long time ago.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon blinked at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, then.  What’s the plan?” Cytherea asked brightly.  “That is… you </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> come out here with a plan, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course we have a plan!” Gideon snapped, but her irritation rapidly gave way to sheepishness as she glanced over at Palamedes.  “Um… Sex Pal, tell her what the plan is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Budging his glasses up his nose with a look that made it clear that he had her number, Palamedes said, “We bluff our way in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I found some records a while back regarding a company called Nonary Solutions,” Coronabeth added.  “I’m not… quite clear what the exact relationship is, but they’ve clearly done business with the lab.  We figured that if we claim to be representing them, that’d at least get us past the gate and into the front door.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nonary Solutions?”  Cytherea frowned thoughtfully.  “That’s… oh, yes, I remember them.  Are you aware that they went under, about a year ago?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um,” Coronabeth replied with a look that made the answer to that question all too clear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Never mind,” Cytherea said, waving an airy hand.  “Now that I’m here, you have a far better plan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Camilla examined her critically in the car’s rearview mirror.  “Which is?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me,” Cytherea beamed.  “Trust me, I can get you all into the lab with </span>
  <em>
    <span>far</span>
  </em>
  <span> less scrutiny than you’d face, otherwise… and in any event, that little stunt would’ve attracted attention from the head of the lab, which is just about the last thing you want.  Oh, and Gideon, dear, you should probably hide in the trunk on the way in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?!”  Gideon rocked back slightly.  “Why?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because it’s vanishingly rare in our world for anybody on legitimate business to show up riding a motorbike,” Cytherea answered.  “And because your face has been repeatedly broadcast on television in connection with the deaths of two of our agents.  I daresay the guards </span>
  <em>
    <span>might</span>
  </em>
  <span> just take notice if you showed up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon grumbled under her breath, trying to ignore the </span>
  <em>
    <span>I told you so </span>
  </em>
  <span>glares she was getting from the others.  They’d all brought up similar concerns while they were planning, which Gideon had brushed aside in her determination to lead the charge to rescue Harrow.  Now that somebody who actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> the lab was saying the same thing…  “Fine,” she growled.  “Cam, pop the trunk.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The interior of the trunk was hot and close and dark, and left little for Gideon to do but stew in her own thoughts, half-curled into the fetal position, as the car rumbled back to life around her.  She chewed her lip and tried to keep herself focused on what lay ahead.  Cytherea could get them past the initial security hurdles and probably guide them in to wherever the lab was keeping Harrow.  What about on the way back out?  Would they be able to sneak out as quietly as they came in, or would they have to fight?  Should she try to steal a gun off of one of the guards, just in case?  Or maybe…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The car ground to a halt.  Distantly, Gideon heard the sound of a window rolling down.  “What’s your business here?” a gruff, masculine voice asked, muffled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cytherea’s voice came in answer.  “They’re with me, Doug.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh!  Apologies, ma’am.  I didn’t see you back there.”  The voice instantly became more deferential.  “I’m sorry… and these people are…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Associates,” Cytherea replied in an exactingly pleasant </span>
  <em>
    <span>I have no interest in justifying myself further</span>
  </em>
  <span> voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… see,” the Doug guy said.  “Shall I let the boss know you’re back?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not necessary,” she said quickly.  “I’ll let him know myself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay… move along, then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The car rumbled onwards.  Gideon found that her breathing had sped up a bit, and was in the middle of trying to calm it back down when the car once again came to a halt and the trunk popped open, letting a refreshingly cool blast of air in to splash over her face.  “Doing okay in there?” Camilla asked, swinging the trunk door up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So far so good.”  Gideon swung her legs out and hauled herself upright.  Cytherea, Palamedes, and Coronabeth were standing a few feet away in a small triangle, conferring with each other in hushed tones.  Camilla had pulled them into a spot around the side of the building, about as out of sight as they could get without seeming like they were trying to stay out of sight.  Working quickly, Gideon donned a grey, slightly oversized hooded sweatshirt that she’d brought along with her, pulled the hood up over her hair, and slipped her shades on beneath it.  “How do I look?” she asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exceedingly suspicious,” Cytherea answered, looking up from her conversation.  “But not immediately recognizable, which is the main thing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon fought down the urge to blow a raspberry at her.  “Then lead the way, creepy necro lady.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doors to the lab were a painfully banal pair of glass doors--they didn’t even have </span>
  <em>
    <span>Abandon all hope, ye who enter here</span>
  </em>
  <span> inscribed on them.  Cytherea took point, pushing her way through them without a moment’s hesitation like she’d passed through a thousand times, which on reflection, she probably had.  Gideon followed close behind her, in the vague hope that proximity to somebody who was actually supposed to be here would cancel out the innate sketchiness of her impromptu disguise.  Palamedes and Coronabeth were behind her, flanking off of either shoulder like bodyguards, and Camilla brought up the rear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some guy who was sitting at what looked like a reception desk--seriously, they had a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>receptionist--</span>
  </em>
  <span>looked up as they entered the lobby.  “Oh, Cytherea,” he said.  “Let’s see--I’m counting four to check in?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Greg,” she said.  “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’m running a bit late--could you just put down me plus four?  I’ll vouch, of course.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Greg’s gaze ran skeptically over the group, pausing with </span>
  <em>
    <span>extra</span>
  </em>
  <span> skepticism on Gideon for a moment, but he nodded.  “Yeah, all right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re a peach.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Security’s a bit lax,” Gideon murmured under her breath to Cytherea as they exited the lobby and began to head down a ramrod-straight, aggressively beige-walled corridor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They can afford it,” Cytherea murmured back.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh.”  Overhead, one of the fluorescent lights flickered slightly.  “Harrow… said something similar, the other day.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well.  She’d know, wouldn’t she?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They turned only once, going left down one of a number of side hallways that sprouted off of the main one at perfect right angles.  Before long the hallway terminated with an abruptness that was becoming characteristic of this place, at a door with (probably fake) wood panelling, a simple lever-style handle situated next to an electronic card reader, and a tarnished placard that just read:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>LABORATORY</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon swallowed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here we are,” Cytherea announced.  A plain white keycard had appeared in her hand.  “The belly of the beast, so to speak.”  She swiped the keycard over the reader; there was a sharp </span>
  <em>
    <span>beep</span>
  </em>
  <span> followed by a mechanical </span>
  <em>
    <span>click,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and with a quick jerk down on the handle, the door yawned open to reveal a staircase spiraling down into a dark, slightly musty-smelling underground space.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Last chance to turn back,” Cytherea said softly, seeing Gideon’s expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon clenched her jaw and straightened her shades.  “Like hell,” she said.  She put a foot forward into the darkness and began to clomp aggressively down the stairs.  Behind her, Cytherea let out a weary, overly-patient sigh, letting the others pass through the door before sliding it shut and following them down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They really have the ambience down in here, don’t they?” Palamedes commented as they all fanned out at the bottom of the staircase.  The corridor they now found themselves in, despite being objectively larger than the ones upstairs, somehow managed to be twice as claustrophobic; whoever had built it hadn’t bothered with even the cheapest of finishings, leaving the walls decorated with a bewildering assortment of bare pipes and ducts, and a vague attempt at illumination had been made with a series of bare-bulb lamps mounted on the ceiling, leaving large areas of the hallway in deep shadow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This way, quickly,” Cytherea said, beckoning them on.  “Harrow’s room is just a little ways down here.  If we hurry, we might be able to get there without--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cytherea?”  A young woman’s voice, from the shadows further down the hall.  “I didn’t know you were back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cytherea slammed to a halt and made a quick, curt gesture to the group that clearly meant </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up and let me do the talking.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  “Just arrived,” she replied lightly to the figure that was making its way towards them.  “What are you doing, skulking around down here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m visiting our little sister, of course.  Why else would I…?”  The figure emerged into a patch of light, and Gideon boggled at her, not due to strangeness, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>familiarity.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Sure, the resemblance wasn’t exact--she was leaner and more wasted, and the blonde of her hair was dull and waxy instead of shining gold--but the shape and structure of her face were an absolute dead ringer for Coronabeth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Who, come to it, she was openly staring at with a look of absolute shock on her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ianthe,” Coronabeth breathed in a voice that was barely there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianthe’s eyes snapped to Cytherea, expression hardening.  “Cytherea,” she said, tone dangerously icy.  “Do you want to explain just </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’ve brought my twin sister down here…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a long moment of breathless silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Cytherea said evenly, “fuck.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She lifted a hand, and the world exploded into chaos.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon stumbled sideways as massive conglomerates of bone materialized out of nowhere, spiraling lances made out of teeth or phalanges or </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>along those lines--Harrow had </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> been fucking kidding when she said that Cytherea’s power’s dwarfed anything she’d seen before.  Someone was screaming--Coronabeth?--and the lances plunged forward to embed themselves in--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the fleeting moments where Gideon’s attention had been elsewhere, something had blossomed where Ianthe had stood, something blobby and pustule-like that looked uncomfortably like it was made out of flesh.  Blood spewed out where the bone lances had pierced it--Gideon flattened herself against the wall to avoid getting splashed--and Cytherea whirled around to face where it splattered and pooled on the concrete floor, which made no sense to Gideon until a shape sprouted from the surface of the blood, shooting upwards and resolving into a humanoid form.  Ianthe lunged at Cythera, who met her head on, and the two of them locked like wrestlers, struggling for the advantage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go!” Cytherea panted, trying to keep a snarling Ianthe at bay.  “You won’t have another chance, </span>
  <em>
    <span>go!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon hesitated--there was a chain reaction happening among her friends, Coronabeth trying to get to Ianthe, Palamedes trying to get to Coronabeth, Camilla trying to get to Palamedes, none of them looking like they were about to heed Cytherea--but the thought of Harrow being within her grasp spurred her, and she whirled about, nimbly dodging the crumbling remains of the bone lances and the wilting remains of the flesh blob and heading down the hallway at a full sprint.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Noises echoed behind her as she ran, screams and yells and far more unnatural, unplaceable sounds.  She shut it out and pounded forward.  Ahead, the hallway hung an abrupt right; she slewed around the corner, skidding like a drifting car, and resumed sprinting.  Here, the walls were lined with doorways, most of them standing open so that Gideon could see that they lead to small, cell-like rooms, some sparsely furnished with metal chairs or bedframes holding thin mattresses.  Harrow’s room must be somewhere around here, then.  All she needed to do was figure out which one--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ahead, a door opened and a figure stepped out, closing the door behind them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The figure looked up at Gideon.  It was a woman, probably somewhere in her 30s at a guess, mousy-haired and wearing an unadorned pantsuit, altogether utterly unremarkable save for the utter lack of concern that she showed upon seeing a six-foot-tall stranger in a hoodie and shades barreling down a dark hallway at her.  “Huh,” she commented, as though she’d just found her keys in a spot where she would’ve sworn she’d never leave them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon squared her shoulders and aligned herself at the woman like a charging bull.  She could overpower her quickly, and then if she was right about that door--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman stepped aside, avoiding Gideon’s attempt at a tackle with an almost casual air.  “Okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she said.  Gideon felt the tips of the woman’s fingers touch the back of her neck--barely anything, barely a </span>
  <em>
    <span>tap--</span>
  </em>
  <span>and her body, suddenly and completely, shut down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon pitched forward and was unconscious before she hit the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first thing she noticed upon coming to was a fairly significant stiffness and discomfort in her </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Possibly, that had been caused by whatever trick the woman had used to incapacitate her.  Or possibly it was because some asshole seemed to have propped her unconscious body up in a metal chair and none-too-gently cuffed her hands behind her back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon’s eyes slowly peeled open, a stop-and-go process as she waited for the light to stop giving her a splitting headache.  She was in a small room, her chair parked on one end of a plain metal table across from another, empty chair on the other side.  Otherwise, the room was utterly nondescript save for a conspicuously large mirror taking up the majority of one wall, embedded at just about the right height for a window.  Gideon had gotten into trouble with Judith and Marta enough times to know an interrogation room when she saw one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She fought down a wave of panic and the accompanying urge to struggle and stomp and scream cuss words at her captors.  When you were in custody, it was important to keep your cool until you’d gotten your bearings and figured out what they wanted from you, and whether it was something you were willing to give up.  Granted, given the current circumstances, she was probably completely fucked, but if there was any chance of getting out of this in one piece…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door creaked open as she mulled over the situation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man who walked in had brown hair chopped into a crew cut and mirrored sunglasses hiding his eyes, which probably would’ve been intimidating if he hadn’t elected to pair them with a plain black turtleneck and slacks, which altogether gave the impression of something like Steve Jobs screwing around and pretending to be a g-man.  He settled into the other chair, propped his elbows up on the table with his fingers steepled in front of him, and stared across at her.  “Gideon Nav,” he said, and there was something like wonder in his voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon glared sullenly back at him.  No reason to go running her mouth just yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The impromptu staring contest lasted for about a minute, until finally the man asked, “Do you believe in fate?”  This was so far from anything that Gideon had heard used to open an interrogation that she couldn’t help but blink and gape at him slightly.  “I don’t know that I do, myself,” he continued.  “But I have to admit that it’s a staggering coincidence… that of all the places young Harrow could’ve chosen to go, all of the people she could’ve stumbled across… it wound up being you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You got a problem with me?” Gideon demanded, unable to restrain her mouth any longer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man chuckled softly, apparently finding the outburst amusing.  “Not at all,” he replied.  “Quite the opposite, if anything.  I have to confess, I’ve… often thought of you.  Wondering what you were doing, what sort of person you were… the answer to which was, apparently, the sort of person who’s willing to mount an assault on a secret, heavily guarded research facility.”  He sighed, shaking his head wistfully.  “You really did turn out to be one hell of a young woman.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okay, this was rapidly getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely</span>
  </em>
  <span> skeevy.  “You’re making it sound like you knew about me even before Harrow,” she said, shifting uncomfortably in her chair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I did,” he said.  “I’ve known about you for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> long time, Gideon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not what she wanted to hear at all.  “And what exactly about me caught your eye?  I’m nobody special.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Context is everything,” he replied cryptically.  “Gideon… do you know what happened to your father?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The question instilled an unaccountably deep sense of dread into the core of Gideon’s being.  “He… died in a gas explosion when I was a kid,” she answered slowly.  “Both my parents did.  That’s why I’m an orphan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Gideon.”  The man shook his head.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I</span>
  </em>
  <span> am your father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Let Cytherea say fuck 2k20</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Any of a number of possible responses flashed through Gideon’s head at once, not least of which was </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s not true, that’s impossible!</span>
  </em>
  <span>  What actually made it out of her mouth was, “...did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>seriously</span>
  </em>
  <span> just say that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man appeared to ignore her.  “Gas explosion,” he muttered derisively to himself.  “Gas leak, gas explosion… you’d think they’d start coming up with something more creative than </span>
  <em>
    <span>gas.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, creep!” Gideon snapped.  “Still right here, and I’d kind of like to know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what the fuck?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes… of course.”  The man leaned forward slightly, his steepled fingers collapsing into each other so that they were interlaced, each hand gripping the other.  Gideon could see a reflection of her face in each lens of his shades.  “Let’s start by laying out the basic facts, shall we?  There </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> an explosion, that much is true.  However, it was somewhat more… occult in nature than the general public was led to believe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon’s jaw tensed.  Much as she hated herself for it, she was hanging on his every word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never quite figured out what it was that I did,” the man admitted ruefully.  “I’ve spent the last twenty years trying to reconstruct the accident, or at least its effects.  Nonetheless, an explosion is an explosion, regardless of the source.  It leveled our house, killing both my wife and I.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon raised a skeptical eyebrow at the very much not dead man sitting in front of her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I imagine you can spot the inconsistency there,” he said with a slight chuckle.  “Believe me, it was disorienting when I woke up in the morgue, still more so when I realized that I had an innate command over the powers of death that I’d never dreamed possible.  Still, science is about embracing whatever frontiers open themselves to you, and I had, if inadvertently, demonstrated a significant amount of expertise to the government, so…”  He spread his hands philosophically, indicating the lab around them.  “Here I am.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And all it cost was ditching me,” Gideon said, surprised at the amount of venom in her voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man winced, managing to look reasonably chastened.  “An oversight on my part, I have to admit,” he said.  “For a long time, I… simply assumed that you had been killed along with your mother.  By the time I gathered the courage to actually face what had happened, and realized my error…”  He shook his head.  “Well.  In any event, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> had my corpse, however briefly, and it was decided that it would be harder for interlopers to trace classified research back to a legally dead man.  Guardianship of a child is one of a great many legal privileges I no longer enjoy… but I’ve learned to make the best of the benefits I enjoy in return.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure,” Gideon replied dryly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” the man replied, as if she had just made a fascinating point.  Then, “My name is John, by the way.  John Gaius.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘Gideon Gaius’ is a terrible name,” Gideon said.  “I’ll be keeping mine, if you don’t mind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your prerogative, of course.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, </span>
  <em>
    <span>John,</span>
  </em>
  <span> where the hell are my friends?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Detained,” he replied.  “But unharmed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, they’d better </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay</span>
  </em>
  <span> that way, or I swear--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As fascinated as I would be to find out what exactly it is you think you could do to me,” he interrupted, “I feel it necessary to stress that I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span> intention of doing anything to them.  I’m genuinely happy that our paths have finally crossed again, and I’d just as soon not do anything to upset you.”  A slight smirk played out over his lips.  “Not to mention that Ianthe would be quite upset with me as well, if I were to do anything to her sister.  So that’s double the reason, right there.  I’m not an unreasonable man, Gideon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, like fuck you’re not,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gideon’s brain urged her to say, but the words snarled into a knot and caught halfway up her throat.  Her stomach had begun to curl into itself, and at some point her fists had begun to clench so hard that they were beginning to hurt.  Apparently her body had decided to start freaking out on her behalf without consulting her.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she said to herself, forcing her fists to unclench and sucking in a deep breath through her nose.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Calm down, calm down, calm down, calm down...</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to see Harrow?” John asked, studying her intently from behind mirrored lenses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon’s heart leapt in her chest, but she kept her face carefully composed.  “No,” she deadpanned.  “I broke into a heavily guarded secure compound because that’s just what the kids do on boring Friday nights these days.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John sighed.  “You get the fire from your mother, and the sarcasm from me,” he said with a mix of exasperation and affection.  “You really are our daughter… come with me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were back down in the basement again, passing through spots of light where the overhead lamps broke the gloom.  “You ever think about finishing this place?” Gideon asked, rubbing slightly at where the cuffs had chafed her wrists.  “You know, tone down the ominousness a bit?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s functional enough as it is.”  John was walking ahead of her, keeping a steady pace as though he could see perfectly in the limited light.  Which, for all Gideon knew, he could.  “I’d just as soon use the money it’d cost to advance my research.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but maybe if you spruced the place up a bit it wouldn’t feel so much like a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>prison?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cast a curious glance at her back over his shoulder.  “...but it’s not a prison.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon bit down on her tongue before her mouth could go shooting off again.  He’d taken her tendency towards backtalk pretty well so far, but… she’d already been </span>
  <em>
    <span>so close,</span>
  </em>
  <span> only to have Harrow snatched away at the last moment, once today.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t going to happen again if she could help it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He led her further down the shitty hallways that apparently weren’t going to be getting any better anytime soon, hanging a right around the same corner that Gideon had skidded around not an hour earlier.  Gideon eyed the line of doorways along the wall as they walked past.  It was a little hard to gauge, but… yeah, he was leading her to exactly the same door where the woman had incapacitated her.  Damn it.  She’d really been just </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> far away…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John fitted a key into the lever-style handle, turned, and pulled, easing the door open without knocking.  “Harrow?” he called.  “You have a visitor.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The interior of the room--cell--was dimly lit, just like the rest of this fucking place.  A dark form sat, hunched over, on a rickety metal bed that seemed to be the room’s only furnishing apart from a pathetic excuse for a bookshelf that had been shoved into the corner.  Harrow’s gaze drifted listlessly over to them--and then she sat bolt upright when her eyes landed on Gideon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um.”  Gideon lifted one hand, awkwardly.  “...hey?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a long stretch of silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why…?”  Harrow’s voice was a deathly whisper.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why are you here?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another long silence.  Gideon’s stomach clenched.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” John said, moving quickly for the door.  “I’m just… going to give you two a bit of…”  He disappeared through the doorway and shut the door behind him without bothering to complete the thought; there was a light </span>
  <em>
    <span>click</span>
  </em>
  <span> as the door relocked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon and Harrow stared at each other for what seemed like an impossibly long time.  Finally, Gideon took a tentative step forward.  “Harrow--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She froze in place.  Harrow had reacted the moment she’d moved, spine arching, shoulders hunching, hackles raised.  “You’re not supposed to be here,” Harrow hissed.  “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>whole point</span>
  </em>
  <span> was to keep you away from here!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damn it.  “Harrow, listen--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> listen?!  Was I unclear when I left?!  I was trying to protect you!  </span>
  <em>
    <span>I was trying to keep you safe!!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?!  And then who keeps </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> safe, Harrow?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Harrow snapped.  “I can take care of myself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have to!  I don’t--”  Gideon stumbled over the words, and suddenly the heat was draining away, leaving her voice pale and raw.  “I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> you to have to.  Look, I’m sorry, Harrow.  I get it, I really do, but--I want to keep you safe too.  And that means getting you </span>
  <em>
    <span>out</span>
  </em>
  <span> of this awful place, no matter what it takes to make that happen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow was staring openly at her--shocked?  Incredulous?  Before Gideon could puzzle out her expression, she turned away, dropping her legs over the far side of the bed so that her back was facing Gideon.  “And how is </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> going for you?” she asked ruefully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ouch, but admittedly, fair.  “The plan… hit a few bumps,” Gideon said.  “Though Cytherea decided that she’s on our side, which helped a bit.  Oh, and apparently the guy who runs this place is actually my dad?  So that’s a whole thing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> got Harrow’s attention.  She rose and whirled around in a single motion, staring across the room at Gideon in disbelief.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Dr. Gaius--is your father--?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon thought that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dr. Gaius</span>
  </em>
  <span> sounded far more distinguished than he deserved--</span>
  <em>
    <span>John</span>
  </em>
  <span> was much more appropriately dipshitty--but this wasn’t really the time to voice that sentiment.  “Uh, yeah,” she said, rubbing at the back of her neck.  “Turns out, dead dad, not actually dead--or rather, </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> dead, then wasn’t again, which fits in with the whole necromancy thing--but… yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow looked like she was struggling to process this information.  Gideon couldn’t blame her, given that she wasn’t sure she’d managed to process it herself.  Before either of them could speak again, there was another quiet </span>
  <em>
    <span>click</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the door swung open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh… hello,” John said, sticking his head in.  “I’m not interrupting, am I?  Have you two managed to, um…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon and Harrow both stared at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s just,” he continued, “it’s getting on towards dinner time, and I know you haven’t eaten in a few hours, Harrow, and I imagine that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’ve</span>
  </em>
  <span> worked up a decent hunger as well, Gideon, and anyway, I was thinking that we’d just set up all together with your friends and the others, and…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon and Harrow continued to stare at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We would be honored… if you would join us,” John finished.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To nobody’s surprise, it was the single most awkward dinner party that Gideon had ever attended.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Part of the upstairs section of the lab seemed to have been set aside for domestic use--not a huge surprise, if John and his cronies lived there full-time.  They were in a room that John referred to as the ‘dining room’, despite an utter lack of any sort of attempt to disguise the fact that it had once been some kind of laboratory, seated around a table that was, admittedly, pretty nice--solid wood, rather than the fold-up POS Gideon had been half-expecting.  John sat at the head like some sort of twisted family patriarch; Gideon had had a moment of queasy fascination when he’d removed his mirrored shades, revealing eyes that were little more than hollowed-out circles of slightly pearly white in ponds of pitch black, presumably a side effect of whatever necromantic bullshit had exploded in his face.  It certainly explained why he went for the G-man look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At John’s right hand sat a tall, fair-haired man who looked like he was in the early stages of middle age.  He was chatting amiably with John as though nothing strange was going on, which was fair enough, given that Gideon didn’t exactly know what the threshold for ‘weird’ was around here.  To John’s other side was the mousy-haired woman who’d taken out Gideon earlier, looking like she’d rather be literally anywhere else in the world right now.  This also struck Gideon as fair enough.  Next to the man was Ianthe, and next to the woman was Harrow; next in turn were Gideon beside Harrow and a deeply uncomfortable-looking Coronabeth.  Finally, beside Gideon and Coronabeth respectively were Camilla and Palamedes, both of whom looked like they didn’t quite understand why they were here instead of some interrogation chamber somewhere, but were too smart to question it out loud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon picked at the food in front of her, which was at the quality level of a high-end cafeteria, or maybe a decently mediocre caterer.  Something was bugging her about the milieu, but it took her a few moments to figure out what.  “Where’s Cytherea?” she asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This question, presented in characteristic disregard for the existing flow of conversation around the table, managed to kill the latter entirely.  “She’s… indisposed, at the moment,” John replied, exchanging an uncomfortable look with the man beside him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman snorted.  “Incarcerated, more like.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mercy…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Restrained, actually,” Mercy continued mercilessly.  “Full-on Hannibal Lecter style, with straps and wards and a bit and everything.  Aren’t you always saying that honesty is a virtue, John?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well.”  John’s lips pursed.  “I’m afraid that Cytherea is a bit too… dangerous, to be given the free reign that I’m allowing the rest of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Gideon said, adding this to the list of reasons she was absolutely going to deck him in his stupid face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The noise of somebody politely clearing their throat cut through the awkwardness, stopping Gideon before she could add any ill-advised sentiments to her response.  “Might I just say,” Palamedes began, in a tone that sounded more suited for a church dinner than… whatever this was, “This is a truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>remarkable</span>
  </em>
  <span> laboratory you’ve set up for yourself here, um… it was Dr. Gaius, wasn’t it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Coronabeth and Harrow were looking at him with open skepticism; Gideon merely raised an eyebrow, while Camilla continued eating without reacting at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, John, please,” John replied, looking deeply pleased (</span>
  <em>
    <span>easy mark,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gideon found herself thinking).  “And thank you.  We’ve put a lot of work into it, and I dare to say that there’s nowhere else in the world that’s doing work like we are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m sure there isn’t,” Palamedes replied earnestly.  “Tell me, how exactly do you go about implanting replenishing thanergetic reserves into a body that isn’t, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John’s eyebrows shot up at that, and his two companions’ gazes snapped onto Palamedes with sudden and slightly unsettling interest.  (Ianthe, meanwhile, simply gave him a look as though she’d caught him wearing white after Labor Day.)  “Well… that’s the question, isn’t it?” John said slowly.  “To tell the truth, I’ve spent the last couple of decades trying to figure out exactly what it was that I managed to do to myself.  At first I tried harnessing the thanergy released by a large number of simultaneous deaths and implanting it into a fetus </span>
  <em>
    <span>in vitro.”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  His head nodded vaguely towards Harrow, whose gaze dropped to the table with a despondency that made Gideon’s hand curl into a fist at her side.  “That method, however, proved woefully inefficient, and you can only engineer so many ‘gas leaks’ before suspicion becomes too great to deflect.  I was stuck for a while, until it was pointed out to me… oh, how did you put it, Augustine?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dabbing at his chin with a napkin, the fair-haired man--whose name was apparently Augustine--replied, “We needed </span>
  <em>
    <span>quality</span>
  </em>
  <span> of death, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>quantity.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes, that was it,” John said, with a slight smile that was jarringly at odds with the casual discussion of serial murder.  “The problem was that thanergy begins to bleed off rapidly once death has occurred, so you lose a truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>ridiculous</span>
  </em>
  <span> amount in the time that it takes to harvest it.  Once I started thinking about it in those terms, however--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You take a soul exactly at the point of death, find a way to keep it there, and shove it into somebody as a thanergy reactor,” Mercy cut in.  “Are you intending to talk them all to death, John?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John deflated a bit.  “I don’t often get the chance to explain it to somebody new,” he said, somewhat petulantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>fascinating,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Palamedes said, and if there was a tightness to his smile, the trio at the end of the table showed no signs of noticing.  “And this is how you produce your, er, secret occult supersoliders…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lyctors,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> John said.  “That’s what we prefer to call them.  And yes, we’ve not only developed the theory but successfully replicated the process four times.”  He gestured in turn to Augustine, Mercy, and Ianthe, with the absent Cytherea indeed making four.  “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>particularly</span>
  </em>
  <span> interested in seeing the effect that it has on young Harrow.  We were making preparations to perform it on her when she, er, absconded.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll bet,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gideon thought, flicking a glance over at Harrow’s masklike expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s…”  Uncharacteristically, Palamedes seemed genuinely lost for words.  “That is, you’re not wrong, sir.  You’re miles ahead of any occult science that I’ve ever heard of.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And it might be enough,” John sighed.  “If not for…”  He trailed off, looking contemplatively at his own hand, which he had held palm-out in front of him, fingers spread.  “I still haven’t solved the mystery,” he murmured.  “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> we can go farther still… and yet, it seems as though we’ve hit the limits of the human soul’s capacity to produce thanergy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Palamedes said mildly, “maybe you have.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John’s eyebrows rose fractionally.  “But then…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m simply engaging in some educated speculation here, but… if the human soul doesn’t have the capacity to produce abilities like yours, then wouldn’t it follow that they must stem from some other source?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What sort of source are you proposing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Again, speculating, but… what about the afterlife itself?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now everybody in the room was staring directly at Palamedes.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John turned himself slightly to address Augustine.  “...your thoughts?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Augustine stroked thoughtfully at his jaw with long, delicate fingers.  “It’s… an area we haven’t explored, certainly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because we agreed there was nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>to</span>
  </em>
  <span> explore,” Mercy snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So we assumed.  However, we know that spirits and revenants exist, that they must come </span>
  <em>
    <span>from</span>
  </em>
  <span> somewhere, a natural domain from which they cross into our reality.  And it would follow that such a domain would be thanergetic in nature.  This young man here is extending that logic one step further, proposing…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...that such a domain would be, effectively, a massive extradimensional pocket of thanergy,” Palamedes finished, leaning forward eagerly.  “So massive as to be inexhaustible, in practical if not absolute terms.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Far</span>
  </em>
  <span> more than you could draw from a dying soul… and enough to produce abilities on the scale that you’re thinking of.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John gave him a long look, his bizarre pearl-in-black eyes fixed with an unnerving steadiness.  Finally, he asked, “What was your name again?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Palamedes,” Palamedes replied.  “Palamedes Sextus.  I approached your laboratory about comparing notes some time ago and was, ah, rather pointedly rejected.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have to speak to somebody about that,” John said.  “Well, you’re here now, at least.  Why don’t we discuss this one-on-one after dinner?  I have a feeling that it could be very productive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As do I,” agreed Palamedes.  He returned his attention to his food, which had been left to cool to tepidness in the throes of the conversation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Sex Pal,” Gideon hissed at him from across the table.  “What the fu--”  She stopped short of completing the invective, catching sight of the twinkle in his eye.  Palamedes was a man of many and varied twinkles, and over the years, Gideon had come to know them all.  This one, she recognized, was not his starstruck </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh gee whiz, isn’t science fascinating</span>
  </em>
  <span> twinkle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, she was definitely looking at the mischievous twinkle of </span>
  <em>
    <span>I have an idea.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey everyone!  Wow, the last few weeks sure... happened, didn't they?  I keep telling myself that I'm going to get more on top of updating this, and then... life.  But we're careening towards the endgame now!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>John whisked Palamedes away the moment dinner ended, followed closely by the elder two of his ‘lyctors’, and Camilla, who Gideon suspected was fully intending to fight both immortal supersoldiers and the demigod of death if anything untoward happened in Palamedes’ general direction.  That left Gideon behind sitting with Harrow, Coronabeth, and Coronabeth’s off-brand knockoff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right,” said the knockoff, rising from her chair.  “If I know them--and I do--they’re going to be at that until all hours of the night, so we may as well find someplace to get comfortable.  We’re going to the lounge.  That’s not a suggestion.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as the ‘dining room’ had been a disused laboratory repurposed with a table and chairs, it turned out that the ‘lounge’ was one of the dingy, unfinished basement rooms with a vague gesture towards comfort in the form of a few couches (which looked like they’d been plucked off of a street corner after their previous owner tired of them) strewn about more or less at random.  Harrow sat so far to the end of one of them that she was very nearly perched on the armrest, curled in on herself, body angled away from Gideon, who was sitting helplessly at the other end.  Okay, so she was still upset and needed her space.  That was… fine.  It would have to be fine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only comfort, cold as it was, was that Coronabeth’s sister wasn’t having any better luck with her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Beth, </span>
  <em>
    <span>come on,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she wheedled, nudging herself closer to where Coronabeth was sitting in, if not an exact imitation of Harrow’s posture, at least a distinct echo of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“‘Come on,’”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Coronabeth repeated bitterly.  “That’s all you have to say to me, Ianthe?  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Four years.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Four years of you being gone without a trace!  I--I thought you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead,</span>
  </em>
  <span> do you even realize what it took for me to </span>
  <em>
    <span>accept</span>
  </em>
  <span> that, and then it turns out you were just--just </span>
  <em>
    <span>here,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the entire time--!”  Her shoulders convulsed involuntarily, and Gideon saw the gleam of tears trickling down from her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> dead,” Ianthe replied, taking her sister’s weeping disturbingly in stride.  “Quite the opposite, in fact.  Come on, look at me!  Look, I haven’t aged a day since the last time you saw me--though looking at you now, maybe I should’ve put it off by a few more years.  I didn’t think it was possible for you to fill out </span>
  <em>
    <span>more,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn--”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Coronabeth erupted up from her seat with a violent sob and strode angrily for the door, though it was largely a symbolic gesture, given that Ianthe had locked it behind her when they’d come in.  Gideon rose as well, on pure reflex, planting her feet in a slightly widened stance and angling herself towards Ianthe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianthe regarded her with a lazy, irritated look.  “What are you supposed to be, the white knight?  Stay out of this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of involved in </span>
  <em>
    <span>this,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gideon gestured broadly at the building around them, “whether I like it or not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit,” Ianthe snorted.  “Harry didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>ask</span>
  </em>
  <span> you to come charging in half-cocked like an idiot.  In fact, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> that she asked you for the opposite.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon snuck a guilty glance at Harrow, who was glowering glumly at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But of course, you’re not the nuanced type, are you?” Ianthe continued, indolently flicking a strand of waxy blonde hair out of her face.  “No, I’m familiar with your kind.  You’ve got this overblown sense of right and wrong, and any time something pisses you off, you just come out swinging without any regard for the bigger picture.  Am I wrong?”  She gestured expansively.  “Look, I’m sure you’re too book-dumb to really appreciate this, but there’s some </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredible</span>
  </em>
  <span> things happening in this place.  I’m practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>immortal,</span>
  </em>
  <span> for goodness sake!  Can you stop and take a moment to wrap your tiny little brain around the implications of that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was only the memory of what Ianthe had shown herself capable of in her fight with Cytherea that kept Gideon from crossing the space between them and decking her full in the face.  Instead, she gritted her teeth and asked, “Right, and who had to die to make that happen?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianthe’s expression went carefully blank.  “Beg your pardon?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, don’t play coy.  I might not be as well-read on the subject as Sex Pal, but dear old dad was pretty clear about what exactly this, what, ‘lyctorization’ thing of yours involves.  So once again: </span>
  <em>
    <span>who had to die to make you immortal?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Babs,” Coronabeth’s voice cut in, tired and pale.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianthe’s head snapped around to where her sister was standing at the other end of the room.  “Beth, listen…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Babs,” Coronabeth repeated, more firmly.  “He disappeared exactly at the same time as you, and you always had him wrapped around your little finger… tell me I’m wrong, Ianthe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianthe’s gaze dropped to the floor.  “Like he was much of a loss to the world, anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ianthe!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>come on,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Beth!” Ianthe snapped, finally rising to her feet.  “He was a snivelling, poncy little </span>
  <em>
    <span>prick,</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t go trying to pretend that he was anything else.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Coronabeth’s hand had risen to her mouth, almost involuntarily.  “He was your </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ianthe!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>he couldn’t have you!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The outburst hung heavily in the air, filling up the dead silence that followed it.  Ianthe looked almost ready to lunge at her sister; without thinking, Gideon took a step forward to intercept her, but the movement only served to grab her attention.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she snarled, rounding on Gideon.  “You see what you’ve dug up?  I ought to rend the flesh from your bones for your insolence, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking--”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Harrow said.  Surprised, Gideon turned to see that she’d unfolded and risen from her seat, facing Ianthe with a set expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianthe, too, seemed surprised, though with more than a bit of pity mixed in.  “Harry, dear,” she said, sounding like a kindergarten teacher talking to a student.  “Look, this is… sweet of you, it really is, but you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> that if I can take Cytherea in a fight, you don’t stand a chance against me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter,” Harrow said stubbornly.  “You’ll still have to go through me to get to her.  And Dr. Gaius will be mad if you hurt me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianthe’s lips pressed together, expression contorting in a furious mental calculation that ended in her sinking back down onto the sofa with a resigned sigh.  “Of all the bizarre things that have happened today,” she said.  “Seeing you finally grow a spine… well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was the loud, conspicuous </span>
  <em>
    <span>click</span>
  </em>
  <span> of a lock unlocking, and the door to the room eased open slightly.  The head that poked through belonged to whatshisname, the fair-haired one.  “Ah, I thought I might find you lot in here,” he said.  “I came to drop off our other two guests.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Finally,” Ianthe groaned, rising once again to her feet.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Please</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell me you’re also here to relieve me of babysitting duty, Augustine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Augustine, who had stepped through the door and was currently engaged in holding it open to allow Camilla and Palamedes into the room, quirked an eyebrow at her.  “I had… assumed that you’d want as much time as possible to catch up with your sister…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes, what an </span>
  <em>
    <span>utter</span>
  </em>
  <span> delight that’s been,” Ianthe replied acidly, storming for the door.  “Whatever, just… post a guard, or something.  It’s not like there’s many ways out of the building from down here, anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Augustine watched her leave with a bewildered expression, then turned it on the room’s remaining occupants.  Gideon, who wasn’t feeling particularly charitable with explanations at the moment, merely shrugged.  With a final look that said </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh well, so it goes,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Augustine left as well, closing and re-locking the door behind him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally.  Gideon’s attention snapped over to Camilla and Palamedes, who’d stopped next to an obviously distressed Coronabeth.  “So what--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stopped short as Camilla glanced up sharply, pressing a finger to her lips and then tapping her ear.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Quiet.  Assume they’re listening.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  “--the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> are you thinking working with these assholes, Sex Pal?” Gideon finished, jumping tracks midsentence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Palamedes looked up from whatever it was he’d been saying to Coronabeth, eyebrows raised.  “I--Gideon, you have no idea what level these people are operating on.  It’s nothing short of incredible.  I… think that working with them could be very </span>
  <em>
    <span>beneficial</span>
  </em>
  <span> to us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you, now?” Gideon said, crossing her arms.  The body language would help keep her pissed-off tone convincing to any prying ears.  She hadn’t been imagining things, Palamedes </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a plan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I do,” Palamedes said, forcing just an edge of doggedness into his voice.  “Are you going to make a fuss about it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon shrugged brusquely.  “What good would that do?  I’m stuck here anyway, so…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good.”  With equal brusqueness, Palamedes turned back to Coronabeth, who was looking rather the worse for wear for overhearing their exchange on top of whatever had just happened between her and Ianthe.  He said something to her in a low voice that made her shake her head, blinking as though she were trying to stop tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, nothing doing until he decided to pull the trigger, then.  Gideon flopped heavily back onto the couch, letting out a frustrated groan that sounded a bit like a wounded bull elephant.  Harrow, who had resumed her seat on the couch with significantly less drama, gave her a blank look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um,” Gideon said, glancing sidelong at her.  “Thanks, by the way.  For sticking up for me back there, I mean.  I </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> need to get out of the habit of mouthing off to people who can massacre me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you do.”  Harrow was silent for a moment, then added, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’ve made that </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>clear.”  Gideon rubbed slightly at the back of her neck.  “I’m… sorry.  Not, like, sorry enough to not be here, but still… sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow hunched forward, curling in on herself slightly.  “I’m a terrible person,” she said in a voice so quiet that Gideon could barely hear it from three feet away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon blinked.  “I--what do you mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow’s eyes darted towards her, then shamefully away.  “In… in spite of everything, I… selfishly, I’m really glad that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words stabbed into Gideon’s heart and released a bloom of emotion that expanded upwards into her brain, driving out all rational thought so that she could only sit staring blankly at Harrow like a complete idiot.  It was only when the last remaining fragments of her mind pinged a warning that Harrow’s lip had started to tremble and holy shit she needed to do something before she started </span>
  <em>
    <span>crying</span>
  </em>
  <span> that she was able to break the spell.  “Hey,” Gideon whispered, leaning forwards towards her.  “Hey.  Want to know something, Harrow?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow eyed her warily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d rather be in here with you than outside wondering if you’re okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow kept staring at her.  Then, slowly, her lips twitched, the corners of her mouth curling upward into a--holy shit, it was small, but that was an honest-to-god </span>
  <em>
    <span>smile.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was one of the most beautiful things Gideon had ever seen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were so many repurposed laboratories in this building that Gideon was almost shocked to see one being used for its intended use.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But that was what she was seeing, or at least, it was what she assumed she was seeing.  If pressed, she wouldn’t have been able to name any of the looming instruments that were placed around the room with more deliberation than any of the furniture, gleaming with chrome finish, nor what exact purpose they were meant for.  They were the sort of thing that just screamed </span>
  <em>
    <span>Science!!, </span>
  </em>
  <span>though, possibly with a mad cackle tacked onto the end for dramatic effect.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Today,” intoned John in a reverent voice, “we go further than any of us have gone before--further than </span>
  <em>
    <span>anybody</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the history of mankind has gone before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Speaking of your drama queens.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your desk, Master Sextus,” John said, gesturing at something that looked more like a computer array from a 70s sci-fi show.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hold on, John,” Mercy said, eyeing Palamedes suspiciously as he crossed to the ‘desk’, followed close behind by Camilla.  “You’re having </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> do the theorems?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” said John, raising an eyebrow.  “He’s the one who drew them up, after all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But he doesn’t have to actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>run</span>
  </em>
  <span> them.  I think it’d be better for one of us to do them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re using a triadic warding array.  I need one of you on each of the points.  With Cytherea still--unavailable--we don’t have any lyctors to spare.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mercy crossed her arms.  “Fine.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> do them then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Also impossible.  I’m the only one who’ll be able to corral the energies unleashed if we succeed in opening a major breach.”  John’s pearl-in-black eyes were hard and unyielding.  “I’ve gone through the whole thing, Mercy.  We’re all, unavoidably, accounted for.  Palamedes can handle the theorems, he’s capable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not his </span>
  <em>
    <span>capability</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m worried about,” Mercy said, shooting another look in Palamedes’ direction and receiving Camilla’s best </span>
  <em>
    <span>Try me, bitch</span>
  </em>
  <span> look in response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John laid a hand on Mercy’s arm.  “You were all unknown variables once.  We must give people a chance to prove themselves.”  If he’d meant the gesture to be mollifying, it didn’t work--Gideon could actually see Mercy tense up as he touched her.  But she offered no further argument, stalking across the room to take up a position along the edge of the circle in the center of the room.  (It was a spot that kept her close enough to Palamedes to glance over at what he was doing, Gideon couldn’t help but notice.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Augustine?  Ianthe?”  John turned to his other two lyctors.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We stand ready, sir,” Augustine replied, offsetting the formality with a roguish wink.  Ianthe didn’t even bother to say anything, merely flipping her hand in a gesture that said </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sure, let’s just get this over with.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  With that, they took up positions along the edge of the circle as well, spacing themselves to that, together with Mercy, they formed the points of an equilateral triangle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, then.”  John rubbed his hands together in anticipation, turning to the last of the room’s occupants, namely Gideon, Harrow, and Coronabeth, all clustered together in an awkward group on the edge of all the serious occulty-sciencey stuff.  “I’m sorry I can’t offer you more of this historic moment than the role of an observer… but hopefully it will suffice.  Are you ready to see your old man work, Gideon?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of his </span>
  <em>
    <span>work,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but a sharp pain in her hand--Harrow was squeezing it, hard--made her close her mouth again and settle her face into the world’s most singularly unconvincing pained grin.  Apparently taking this as a sign of unadulterated enthusiasm, John grinned back at her and walked to the circle, humming a little tune to himself as he made his way to the center.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Begin,” he said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the desk-computer-thingamabob, Palamedes set to work, tracing lines over a screen in a pattern that Gideon just </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> would give her a headache if she tried to make any sense of it.  “Foundation set,” he called, as matter-of-factly as if he were announcing that dinner was ready.  “I’ll need some thanergy now, if you please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As one, the three lyctors around the outside of the circle spread their arms; as one, they inhaled a deep breath and let it back out, slowly.  Palamedes’ desk thingy let out a sharp beep, and Gideon heard him mutter an impressed </span>
  <em>
    <span>“damn.”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  At the same time, she felt Harrow’s fingers slip softly into hers.  Harrow was gazing straight at the ritual, her body quivering slightly with tension.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okay, so apparently they were doing something really impressive that everybody except Gideon could sense.  She was feeling a little bit left out, to be honest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All right, good, good,” Palamedes said.  “Moving to the second phase, refocusing the thanergetic arcs…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gently, now, gently,” John murmured.  He was staring intently at empty air in the exact midpoint of the circle, as though he could see something there.  Which, come to think of it, he probably could.  God damn it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Arc paths set and looking steady,” Palamedes said.  “Moving on to the third phase.  Get ready, because we’re about to open the aperture.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beside Gideon, Harrow sucked in a sharp breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?”  Mercy’s voice was sharp, cutting through the mood that had settled over the room; she’d twisted partway out of whatever yoga pose the lyctors were doing in order to peer over at Palamedes and his desk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Palamedes winced slightly.  “Mercy, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> stay focused, I need your thanergy output to stay steady.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What are you doing?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mercy repeated.  “That doesn’t look like the formula you showed us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mercy,” John said, voice heavy with warning.  The other two lyctors had stirred from their repose; Ianthe had opened a single eye to watch the unexpected turn of events.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, John, for once in your unlife </span>
  <em>
    <span>shut up</span>
  </em>
  <span> and listen to me,” Mercy snapped.  “I’m telling you, that’s all wrong, it’s nothing like what he showed us before, it looks more like--</span>
  <em>
    <span>John, stop him, he’s doing the theorems wrong!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What--?” John began to say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Contact,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Palamedes said, pushing his glasses up his nose with a single finger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The air in the center of the circle crackled with a tenebrous energy that even Gideon could see.  For the space of a heartbeat, the lab fell utterly silent and utterly still.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, with a sound like reality itself tearing open (and Gideon had </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> realized she knew how that sounded), the center point yawned wide--a hole opened--a </span>
  <em>
    <span>mouth</span>
  </em>
  <span> opened--fucking hell, which one was it?!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a hole lined all around with </span>
  <em>
    <span>teeth,</span>
  </em>
  <span> which is really what a mouth is too when you think about it, and this was when Gideon realized that her train of thought was beginning to derail into utter hysteria.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh, that’s interesting,” Palamedes said, meaning </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The holemouth gnashed violently--behind the teeth it was pitch black, the blackest black you could imagine, so black it’d make that one pretentious art fucker jealous--and from that black nowhere tendrils lashed out, pink and uncomfortably wet, zeroing in on John and his lyctors like guided missiles and tangling around them in a spectacle that was both horrifying and just kinda gross.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mercy went first--yanked off her feet before she could react, she disappeared into the holemouth with an abbreviated screech of terror.  Augustine fared better, but only to the tune of a few seconds, before yet more tendrils lashed out tonguelike, taking his legs out from under him and carrying him in as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A clatter off to the side distracted Gideon momentarily--Camilla had hauled Palamedes bodily back towards the edge of the room, knocking over his chair in the process.  In the center of the circle, a lone figure stood, stooping as he strained against the tendrils that were tugging insistently at him, trying to drag him off to the same fate as his lyctors.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John lifted his head, meeting his daughter’s eyes.  “Gideon…” he said, pulling with all his might to reach a single pleading hand toward her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon took a long, hard look at her father, so suddenly reappeared in her life after all these years.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then she marched forward, lifted her leg, and planted her boot squarely in his chest.  He only had time to widen his eyes in shock before the tendrils, suddenly finding the scales tipped in their favor, hauled him into the darkness beyond the holemouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell,</span>
  </em>
  <span> dad,” Gideon snarled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She caught a flash of gold in her peripheral vision and heard somebody cry out.  Ianthe was still on the circle's edge, wrapped up in her own set of tendrils, which had failed to do to her what they’d done to her coworkers mainly due to the efforts of her sister.  Coronabeth had flung her arms around Ianthe’s torso and was engaged in a desperate tug-of-war for her sister’s continued existence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon let out a frustrated growl.  If it were up to her, she’d have no qualms about letting Ianthe get gobbled up by the holemouth… but she owed Coronabeth big-time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gideon--” Coronabeth gasped as she sprinted over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just </span>
  <em>
    <span>hold onto her,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gideon gritted.  She set about prying tendrils from Ianthe’s limbs--the tendrils licked at her and she slapped them away--Coronabeth began hauling backward with everything she had as she realized what Gideon was doing--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Objectively, it could only have taken a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity before Gideon had detached enough tendrils that Coronabeth’s tugging slipped Ianthe from the weakened grip of the few that remained.  The two sisters tumbled to the floor in a heap and were immediately set upon by Palamedes and Camilla, who began hauling them both away to a safe distance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon slumped and breathed out a sigh of relief, and in that split second of lowered guard a tendril wrapped around her wrist and yanked her sharply towards the holemouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shit!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gideon yelped.  She wriggled against the tendrils grip, but more were already licking at her and </span>
  <em>
    <span>good fucking lord</span>
  </em>
  <span> this was incredibly gross, she could hear a commotion behind her that probably meant the others had noticed her predicament but it was too late, she was getting dragged closer and closer to the gnashing teeth, and all she could think was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Welp, guess I’ll have a chance to talk shit out with dad after all--</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something wrapped around her waist, hard and--</span>
  <em>
    <span>bony.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  She looked down to see a lattice of bone, almost ribcage-like, growing and spreading into an impromptu harness around her waist and hips; the back of it had a long, flexible cord like a spinal column running back to--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harrow,” Gideon gasped, craning her neck around to look behind her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow had the spinal column clutched in her hand; her face was set in grim concentration, her eyes wild with desperation.  She staggered slightly, losing ground against the tendrils that were tugging at Gideon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harrow!” Gideon called again.  “Harrow, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“N-not…”  Harrow regained her footing, looked up at Gideon; blood had begun to trickle from her nostrils and bead along her brow.  “Not… losing… you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then an arm looped around Harrow’s shoulder and Camilla was to one side of her, helping her pull.  Palamedes appeared at her other side to do the same, and Coronabeth rose behind her to wrap both arms around her waist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh look,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gideon thought.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>All my friends have come together to save me from a horrifying fate worse than death.  How nice.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She might’ve still been a bit hysterical.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lattice around her waist yanked hard, digging into her; with an uncomfortably wet sound, the tendrils entangling her relinquished their grip, and Gideon fairly flew backwards, colliding with her friends in a manner not unlike a bowling ball slamming into pins.  They all collapsed into a heap together, and small, bony arms encircled Gideon’s chest from behind, squeezing her tight.  “Got you,” Harrow rasped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Gideon agreed through a shaky grin.  “Yeah, you do.”  The pile of people spent a few moments untangling themselves, during which Gideon had to fend off more than a few concerned hands trying to lay themselves on her, as though trying to reassure themselves that she really was there and hadn’t disappeared through the holemouth.  “I’m fine!” she said, rising to her feet.  Her eyes landed on Ianthe, who hadn’t participated in her rescue--okay, fair enough--and was standing awkwardly watching them a few feet away.  Well, fine, at least it looked like she wasn’t going to attack them in retaliation for feeding her boss and coworkers to… whatever exactly the holemouth was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Speaking of--Gideon turned to face the toothy gap.  It was gnashing at the empty air, tongue-tendrils waving wildly in all directions.  The sudden lack of available prey didn’t seem to be deterring it any.  In fact… Gideon took an uneasy step backwards as a couple of tendrils licked at the edge of the circle.  Yeah, it was subtle, but unmistakable once you were watching it closely; the damn thing was getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>bigger</span>
  </em>
  <span> at an uncomfortable rate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, um,” Gideon said, eyeing it as more tendrils probed at, and then </span>
  <em>
    <span>past,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the edge of the circle.  “How exactly do we close this thing back up, Sex Pal?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t,” said Palamedes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Run,” Palamedes suggested mildly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Needing little encouragement on that front, the group took off in a disorganized herd, careening out the door and through the dingy, unfinished basement corridors.  The staircase up to the main floor was in sight when Gideon felt the ground vibrate slightly beneath her feet; the walls of the corridor around them began to creak ominously to a degree that was concerning even considering the state of them.  “Sex Pal, please tell me that thing isn’t going to bring the building down on our heads.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m really only familiar with the stoma in a very broad theoretical sense,” Palamedes replied.  “As far as I know, we’re the first people to actually manifest one, at least in this particular phase of reality.  A bit of a shame that I can’t observe it with some diagnostic equipment to get a better--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sex Pal!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gideon snapped.  “Focus!  What’s relevant here and now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well…”  Palamedes sucked in a breath through his teeth.  “It is… within the realm of possibility that the stoma could devour enough of the building’s foundations to collapse it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great,” sighed Gideon.  “Okay, double time!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They scrambled up the stairs.  Gideon hesitated for a moment at the top, trying to remember which way to turn, but Ianthe muscled her way past her and made a beeline for what Gideon assumed was probably the front door.  She was about to follow her and the others out when a thought struck her.  “Wait, wait, wait!” she called, skidding to a halt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everybody else stumbled to a halt as well.  “What?” Camilla asked, turning back to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cytherea!” Gideon said.  “She’s still somewhere in her--we’ve got to get her out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have got to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>kidding</span>
  </em>
  <span> me,” Ianthe groaned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon glared at her.  “I’m not leaving without her.  She’s the only reason I managed to get in here in one piece.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever so grateful</span>
  </em>
  <span> to her for that,” Ianthe snorted.  “Well, good luck.  Beth, come on, let’s--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Coronabeth shook her head.  “Gideon’s right, Ianthe.  I’m not leaving without her either.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>serious.”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Ianthe looked from Coronabeth, to Harrow, to Palamedes, to Camilla.  Not finding what she was looking for, she rolled her eyes heavenward and let out an incoherent noise of frustration.  “Okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’ll show you where she’s being held.  But if we all die because of this, I am going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>very upset with you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cytherea’s cell wound up being an utterly nondescript door in a side hallway; Ianthe rattled at the doorknob and patted at her waist, presumably for some kind of key that she wasn’t wearing at the moment.  Snarling in annoyance, she ran a single fingernail over her palm, drawing a wet red line.  Blood spurted from the cut, and where it hit the doorknob, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>sizzled,</span>
  </em>
  <span> rapidly eating away at it until it fell out of the doorframe and clattered to the floor in multiple rusty pieces.  Satisfied, Ianthe booted the now-knobless door open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mercy hadn’t been kidding earlier about the Hannibal Lecter treatment.  Cytherea was straitjacketed and suspended from a metal frame that stood in the middle of some sort of complicated-looking occult array.  She was already looking up when the door open, and when she saw Ianthe backed by Gideon and company, she raised an eyebrow and made a soft, muffled sound of inquiry--all that she was really capable of at the moment, given the bit gag in her mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, hey,” Gideon said, raising a hand awkwardly.  “So it’s kind of a long story--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“John and the others are gone, and the building might be collapsing,” Ianthe interrupted.  As if to drive the point home, this statement was punctuated by a rumbling and creaking beneath them, loud enough to rattle the floor.  “Explain later, run now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cytherea nodded once with an affirmative sound, somehow still her unflappable self despite everything.  Ianthe waved the same hand that she’d sliced open earlier, and deep red threads of blood spun out across the room, encircling Cytherea.  Where they touched, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>sliced,</span>
  </em>
  <span> rapidly shredding her straitjacket to ribbons.  She landed on her feet, and was instantly in motion even as she reached up to unfasten her gag.  “Oh, much better,” she sighed as she pulled it loose from her mouth.  “Well, I’ll be very interested in hearing this story once we’re not in immediate danger.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They tore down the hallway at top speed; here and there guards stepped out to challenge them, but they were immediately shouted down by Ianthe and Cytherea.  Apparently adherents to the theory that you don’t argue with a necromancer at a dead run, the guards turned to flee as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bursting out the front door, Gideon was about ready to stop and give her burning lungs a rest, but Palamedes saw her falter and just said “Nope,” and so they pressed onwards, all the way down the drive to the gate at the perimeter fence.  Here at last they came to a stop, with more than a couple of their motley group collapsing to the ground--Gideon had to grab Harrow to stop her from being among them.  They’d scarcely had a moment to catch their breath when a horrifying metal screech came from the lab; as one, they turned to see the building collapsing in on itself, throwing up a cloud of dust and debris that rolled up towards the sky in a thick pillar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then, for a long moment, silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, that was certainly dramatic,” Cytherea said at last.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Indeed,” agreed Palamedes.  “I… think I should have a look at the stoma.  See just how worried we should be about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cytherea raised an eyebrow.  “Why don’t I accompany you?” she said.  “You can explain to me just what happened here, on the way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Palamedes said, momentarily flustered.  “That’s--certainly, as long as you’re careful.  It’s rather dangerous.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I promise, I will be,” Cytherea replied with a smile that said </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bless your heart.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon eased herself down to the ground as Palamedes set off, flanked off of either shoulder by Cytherea and Camilla.  Ianthe and Coronabeth were some distance away, conversing in low voices--whatever they were talking about, it seemed to be going better than their last conversation.  The guards they’d picked up on the way out were milling around aimlessly, seemingly coming to terms with the fact that nobody was in any particular hurry to tell them what the hell had just happened.  As for Harrow--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Gideon grinned as Harrow plopped down next to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Harrow replied.  She hesitated for a moment, then leaned sideways against Gideon, who wrapped an arm around her back in return.  “Does… does this mean it’s all over?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“More or less, yeah,” Gideon sighed.  “I mean, we’re probably going to have to have words with whatever government assholes my dad… </span>
  <em>
    <span>John</span>
  </em>
  <span> was working with.  And… crap, I think the police are still looking for me.  I guess we’ll have to deal with that too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not a problem,” Harrow said seriously.  “If anybody lays a hand on you, I’ll kill them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O-okay, I mean, thanks, but there’s probably… less murdery ways to deal with it.”  Gideon drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly.  “We’ll figure it out.  But what about you?  What are you going to do now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow didn’t reply for so long that Gideon was beginning to worry she’d said something wrong, until finally she said, “If it’s all right… can I come and stay with you again?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A huge, goofy grin of relief broke out over Gideon’s face.  “I mean, I didn’t want to pressure you, but… I’d really like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Three figures approached from the direction of the lab’s ruins; Palamedes, Cytherea, and Camilla had returned.  “Oi, Sex Pal!” Gideon called to him.  “What’s the news on our horrifying hole in reality?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It seems that it grew to a size too large to sustain and collapsed back in on itself,” Palamedes reported.  “It’s shut.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you know that that was going to happen?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was ninety percent sure that something like this would happen, eventually,” Palamedes said.  “Or eighty percent.  Call it seventy-five.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...and what would’ve happened if you were wrong?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I wasn’t, so it doesn’t bear worrying about.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of all the ridiculous plans,” Cytherea sighed, shaking her head.  “I knew you kids had spirit, but… well, you certainly pulled something off here.”  She looked around, noting the scattered guards who were trying not to look like they were all staring at her.  “Right, I should talk to them.  Given that I seem to be the senior surviving lyctor, I suspect that puts me in charge of what’s left of our operation.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t you just get locked up for betrayal?” Camilla asked, raising an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A technicality.  Ianthe could perhaps try to force the issue, but…”  Cytherea gestured airily at Ianthe and Coronabeth, who were still oblivious to the world around them.  “I get the feeling that’s not the path she’s going to choose.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, if you’re going to be in charge, might I submit my resume for consideration?” Palamedes said.  “Gaius did some terrible things, but… I think the knowledge his operation accumulated could be put to better use, in the right hands.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cytherea leveled a look at him.  “I’ll warn you now, I’m going to frown on any further attempts to breach the barrier to the afterlife on laboratory grounds.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I plead extenuating circumstances.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough.”  Cytherea’s laughter was like a bell tinkling.  “As for the rest of you, you’re of course welcome to join in if you wish, but…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” Gideon said, giving Harrow a light squeeze.  “I think we’re ready to go home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whew.  I'm pretty sure this is the longest it's ever taken me to put out a chapter for one of my works.  But it's done!  It's up!  And we have just one epilogue chapter to go before we call it a wrap.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hello!” Gideon called as the bell on the diner’s door jingled.  “What can I do you for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, for starters, you can ‘do me for’ a cup of that lavender tea of yours,” Cytherea said lightly, settling herself in at her seat at the counter.  Camilla, who’d been trailing just behind her, took the seat next to hers.  “And Camilla tells me that your pie is </span>
  <em>
    <span>excellent.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a grin, Gideon set about preparing the tea to steep.  “It’s a bit of a long drive up from Drearburh just for tea and pie, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not if it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> tea and pie,” Cytherea countered.  “Besides, I get an excuse to see one of my favorite people as well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon felt her face heat up, confirming once again that yes, she was Like That.  “There’s your tea,” she said, sliding a cup with a bag in it towards Cytherea.  “Give it a few minutes before you drink it.  I’ll get your pie in a moment.  Cam, the usual?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Camilla said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of Drearburh, how </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> everything down there going these days?” Gideon asked as she started automatically measuring out the exact amount of cream that Camilla liked in her tea.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“About how you’d expect,” Camilla replied, idly watching her.  “Between the two of us, we’re actually able to convince Palamedes to take meal and sleep breaks once in a while.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I swear, he’s going to end up a wizened old man at forty,” Gideon muttered, setting the coffee down in front of Camilla.  “Sounds like rebuilding went all right, though?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“About as well as you could expect,” said Cytherea.  “You know how these official construction projects tend to go.  But I only had to put the fear of me into a couple of petty officials in order to get it all running smoothly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon raised an eyebrow at her, belatedly setting down a slice of pie alongside her tea.  “I thought that your, uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>abilities</span>
  </em>
  <span> were supposed to be top secret.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, they are.”  Cytherea smiled sweetly.  “But I don’t need them to be intimidating.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And there went Gideon’s face again.  She quickly turned away and became extremely interested in wiping down another section of countertop.  “Right, well, glad things seem to be going okay, then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” Cytherea said by way of agreement.  She took a dainty sip of her tea, then added, “Speaking of the way things are going--how have things been with Harrow?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh--good, good, you know,” Gideon said, wiping again over a section of counter she’d just cleaned.  “Just… taking it all one day at a time, you know?”  When this insight failed to produce anything other than an awkward silence, she added, “It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a little bit nerve-wracking--I mean, not having her around, not exactly, but… there’s just a corner of my mind wondering if the government is ever going to figure out where she is and come knocking.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah.  Well.”  Cytherea leaned forward conspiratorially.  “I wouldn’t worry yourself too much about that, if I were you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon raised a quizzical eyebrow at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You see, the thing is,” Cytherea continued, sharing a look with Camilla, “back when we were doing the initial cleanup, it fell to Palamedes, Camilla, and myself to sort through and salvage what remained of the original laboratory records.  And </span>
  <em>
    <span>somehow,</span>
  </em>
  <span> by an odd coincidence, it turned out that every single record referring to Harrow’s existence was destroyed outright or damaged beyond any hope of recovery.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are the odds, right?” Camilla deadpanned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A slightly goofy grin was slowly spreading itself over Gideon’s face.  “You guys…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A quick, simple ‘thanks’ will suffice,” Cytherea said, waving her off.  “Harrow deserves some peace of mind, after everything that’s happened.  As do you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, then…”  Gideon was still grinning.  “Thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
  
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m home!” Gideon called, knocking her boots on the doorframe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Welcome back,” replied Harrow from the couch.  As usual, she had the TV on; the sound of a calm, British-accented voice was murmuring from it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nature documentaries again?” Gideon asked, wriggling out of her boots and shucking her jacket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh,” Harrow said.  Not a huge surprise, given that they were her favorite.  “This one’s about… flamingos.  They’re very strange.  I had no idea anything that strange existed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon allowed herself a small smile.  It was still fairly common to unexpectedly stumble over a hole in Harrow’s knowledge of the world around her, courtesy of whatever shitty patchwork education John had deigned to provide her in the lab.  It still brought out a twinge of rage at dear old dad, but the eager way that Harrow devoured whatever new information was available to her had become endearing, in its way.  “I’ll allow that flamingos are moderately strange,” she said, crossing to the back of the sofa, just behind Harrow.  “But there’s some </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> bizarre shit out there, too, stuff that makes them look totally normal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Harrow said.  “They had a bit on sea cucumbers earlier.  I’d always thought that cucumbers were a plant.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They are,” Gideon said.  “Unless they’re in the sea, in which case they’re… not, I guess.  I don’t know, I’m not a zoologist.  Anyway, I’m going to fix us some dinner here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That got a slight turn of Harrow’s head, just enough for her to peek over her shoulder.  “You didn’t bring anything?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I literally cannot afford to bring you burgers every night, Harrow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” Harrow said in a way that meant, </span>
  <em>
    <span>My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chuckling to herself, Gideon made her way into the kitchen.  Tonight it was the good old standby staple of rice and beans.  A bit basic, but with some creativity… she hesitated in front of her motley collection of spices.  Harrow was a little bit picky about the sorts of flavors that went into her mouth.  What was safe to add?  In the end, she played it conservatively, adding salt and risking only the barest sprinkle of garlic powder.  Fairly bland, but she could add stuff to her own bowl if she needed.  As an afterthought, she pulled the bag of cheese out.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> she knew Harrow liked, so…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She turned around to see Harrow sitting at the dining room table, staring at her.  “The documentary ended,” she said by way of explanation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… see,” Gideon said.  “Well, dinner’s ready, so… </span>
  <em>
    <span>bon appetit.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Or as the French say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>good appetite,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harrow replied, deadpan.  Gideon had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep from snorting.  She’d said that exactly once, weeks ago, and Harrow had, for whatever reason, latched onto it.  She still wasn’t sure if she realized that it was supposed to be a joke.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“By the way,” Gideon said as they were tucking into their food.  “Cytherea and Camilla came by the diner today.”  Harrow didn’t say anything in response, but her gaze flickered momentarily upward in a way that said </span>
  <em>
    <span>Go on,</span>
  </em>
  <span> so Gideon did.  “Sounds like they’ve got the lab back on its feet, more or less.  Oh, and, uh… I guess they’ve been through all the surviving records.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harrow raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is, by some </span>
  <em>
    <span>bizarre coincidence, </span>
  </em>
  <span>they, uh, apparently managed to lose all of the old records pertaining to, well, you.  The point is, as far as the government’s concerned at this point, you basically don’t exist.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see.”  Harrow’s attention returned to her food.  “That’s good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Gideon agreed, grinning slightly.  “Yeah, it is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They ate in silence for a few minutes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I come to the diner with you tomorrow?” Harrow asked suddenly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon blinked.  “I mean--yeah, of course.  I just didn’t realize you’d wanted to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been thinking about it,” Harrow said seriously.  “It means I get to spend more time with you, of course.  But I’d also get to meet new people.  You, Palamedes, Camilla, Coronabeth--you’re all such wonderful people, and I wouldn’t have met you if I hadn’t gotten out of the lab.  So I think… I think I’d like to keep getting out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That--”  Gideon’s throat hitched unexpectedly; she swallowed it down.  “That sounds like a really great idea, Harrow.  You can come out to the diner with me anytime you want.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And other places,” Harrow added.  “Like--I don’t know.  But there’s a lot out there, and I want to see it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gideon nodded.  “And you will.  I mean, I could probably stand to get out of town more often than I do, myself.  Hey, after dinner, let’s look and see if there’s anything in driving distance that looks cool--maybe we could get out and see it this weekend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That sounds good.”  And Harrow smiled.  Gideon couldn’t help smiling too.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that's a wrap, folks.</p><p>Getting this one through to the end was kind of hard for me, as you might've surmised from how spread out my last few updates have been.  Call it quarantine fatigue finally setting in, I guess.  Anyway, I'm going to be taking a bit of a hiatus for a while to recharge my writing batteries a bit and figure out what exactly I want to do next.  Hope everybody had a decent holiday season, and I'll see you all sometime in the new year!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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